


Am Zahreik

by chocolafied



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: (smut starts at chapter 33), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cullenlingus, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, Major Depictions of Violence, OC, Personal Dragonborn, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexuality, Smut, chocolafied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:51:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 99,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolafied/pseuds/chocolafied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aeiron Stormblade, Thane of Whiterun, is a person of many different things; dangerous and swift nearing the top of the list. Her feet lead her to Jorvaskr after the end of the Civil War and the destruction of Alduin and she finds someone that makes her think that maybe she doesn't have to do everything alone anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Aeiron be fast_

_Aeiron be quick_

_Aeiron, don't die..._

* * *

 

The Imperials were driving the Stormcloaks back, pushing them further into the woods. Galmar Stone-Fist cursed under his breath as another soldier fell a few feet away from him. "Dammit!" He shouted, turning to yell at one Stormcloak who was crouching beside him behind a log. "Where's Stormblade?"

"I don't know!" She shouted back. They both turned to look ahead briefly before ducking down to avoid the next onslaught of arrows being rained down upon them. Three more soldiers fell close by, falling as ragdolls would to the ground. They were nearing the other side of the woods. The road began showing through the thicket of the trees and tall grass.

"Aeiron!" The old bear growled out into the air, the grip on his battle axe handle tightening.  

"Here!" A female voice cried out through the shouting and screams. The brogue in her voice was unmistakable. Galmar turned around to see a short Nord woman with mid-back length chocolate brown hair head towards him. Her hair was a mess, matted in clumps in places and making it bob lightly as she walked over to the other general. She was wearing the same set of armor as him and bearing a few new scratches on her arms and legs. Her gray-blue shined defiantly and burned anything in site.

He smirked dryly, rising slightly to meet her. "Stormblade, what kept you?"

Aeiron laughed bitterly, grasping his arms with her hand firmly. "Imperials met me on the way here. I guess they didn't want the star of the hour showing up at the event." She shrugged, lips puckering slightly and showing off the scar that trailed from her lips to the underside of her jaw.

 Galmar chuckled and let go of her hand, pointing towards the battle field. "The Imperials are driving us back." The old man then looked back at the younger woman. "Think you can make them run with their tails between their legs?"

She grinned, intertwining her fingers and bringing her hands up to crack her knuckles and raising her arms above her head as she stretched. Aeiron tilted her head to each side once before rolling her shoulders. After sighing lightly, she reached in back of her and unsheathing her steel battle axe, one almost identical to the old generals, but the Celtic markings were different; foreign to the land.

"I'll start going," the female general stated, looking up at the older man and giving him a nod before looking back out into the thicket of the woods where the battle still raged on. "When I reach the half way mark, rally the troops and start following my lead." Aeiron didn't wait for his approval for her plan of action before vaulting over the log that was covering them from enemy fire and running into the battle.

Galmar shook his head, muttering "Crazy girl..." under his breath before turning away to look in another direction. He raised his hand in the air and shouted. "Ralof!"

Aeiron was fast, even when lugging around her battle axe. She had to be. She was smaller than most, but deadly nonetheless. The generals made sure to sharpen their weapons prior to the occasion of slaughtering Imperials as she swung at her first victim, bringing the axe around her broad body with one arm and striking down another enemy soldier. Both hands now gripped the handle as she brought it down above her head, slicing through another enemy before letting her left hand go and bringing her blade around her once more with her right arm.

She turned around, just in time to bring up the handle of the large weapon to block a blow of an Imperial sword aimed for her head. Aeiron kicked the enemy soldier in the groin and then brought her axe down as he stumbled back, decapitating him. Another soldier tried to flank her on her left. The female general brought up her leg and kicked him back, her axe following her body as she sliced the soldier in two.

Another one was running towards her, readying his arm to swing down at her. Aeiron reached at her thigh and unsheathed an iron dagger and then threw it, the blade piercing the  Imperial's chest and he fell with a cry of pain. From somewhere in the battlefield, she heard shouts and cheers of "It's Stormblade!" "Stormblade!"

"On her!" The enemy general shouted as he pointed at her. His dark eyes and brow made his anger apparent as he urged more men after her. They drew their swords as they charged forth towards her. Aeiron reached the middle of the battleground when she saw them rushing towards her.

"Die, you Faithless Imperials!" Aeiron turned around at the hoarse battle cry, seeing Galmar charging forward with about seven more of their own. The Imperials began diminishing in numbers, the battalion now one-third of the size that they were before the female general showed up.

Aeiron gave a shit-eating grin, turning her attention to the enemy and raising her axe's handle to push away the soldier that was coming directly at her. She kicked him again for good measure, heart singing as she brought her axe up in a golf swing. She turned and brought the axe down again, the blade digging into the back of an enemy soldier fighting another Stormcloak. When the body fell, the Nord grinned at her, a fellow pair of blue eyes gleaming in amusement. "Thanks, Aeiron!"

"Watch yourself, Ralof! I don't feel like carting you back to Riverwood!" She called over her shoulder, cutting through another Imperial's legs.

She heard him chuckle in the background of the noise. “I can say the same for you, General!”

The enemy numbers were dwindling at the sudden push back by the Stormcloaks. They were winning, beating the Empire back. An all too familiar roar then filled the overcast sky above. Aeiron froze, letting her axe drop to her right hand and looking up, seeing a dragon circle above before landing down on the ground in front of her. The ground shook below her and trees around her toppled down, but she didn't move. It's roaring rang through her ears and the pounding of the blood in her head arose. "Dragon!"

“Stormblade!” She heard Galmar shout after her.

 

Aeiron cursed under her breath and bent her knees, left hand gripping the long handle once more. And from the dragon's mouth, the word "YOL" erupted in flames.


	2. Chapter 2

The bedroom door opened and then closed with a slam. "Aeiron, get up!" The brunette in bed groaned as she rolled over onto her stomach and brought the skins over her head and exposed her bare feet. Lydia sighed and sat at the edge of the bed, nudging the lump that was lying underneath the covers. The Housecarl sighed in frustration and raised her voice. "Aeiron!"

"What?" Aeiron's voice came out muffled and dragged out from underneath the pelts. The Housecarl felt like rolling her eyes as she began nudging at her Thane once more.

"It's already four in afternoon. Get up!" Lydia stood on her feet and pulled the covers off of the lazy bum of a Thane. Aeiron rolled slowly and landed on the floor, merely groaned again as the brightly lit room's light pierced her eyes. Groggily, the Stormcloak's eyes blinked her eyes up at her Housecarl and was greeted with a scowl. "I already made you lunch. It's on the table downstairs."

Aeiron sighed and sat up off the floor, eyes scanning the bedroom. She got up slowly, groaning at the old cuts and burns from a month ago that were vaguely  reminding her that they were still there, though barely. Her legs felt stiff as she walked over to the small table in the corner of the room where her Officer Armor lay, folded neatly over the back of the chair; the boots sat on the seat and the gauntlets were placed neatly on the tabletop.

Lydia could be heard walking around downstairs, probably setting the table for the both of them. Aeiron smirked lightly as she mentally thanked the woman and began pulling off her large tunic top. At the foot of the stairs, Lydia stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. "AEIRON!"

"WHAT?" The brunette walked towards the stairs, pulling her hair out from underneath her armor as she slowly walked down the stairs. The Housecarl sighed and followed Aeiron to the table and sat down across from her.

Lydia watched her dig into the venison hungrily, fork and knife cutting apart the meat with powerful strokes. When Aeiron had a mouthful of meat, she sighed and looked down ather food for a moment before looking back up at the general. Lydia closed her eyes and sighed.

"Look," the Housecarl began. Aeiron paused and looked up at the older woman, blinking her eyes innocently. "I know it's only been a month since you killed Alduin and you're still recovering, but I can't keep taking care of you like this! You sleep half the day away and are up until the sun rises and you're not eating properly!"

The soldier swallowed and pursed her lips, looking down at her meal. "And with the dreams that you keep having from the war..." Lydia continued. "It ended two years ago!"

"Lydia," Aeiron spoke quietly before reaching over to her goblet of milk and taking a sip. She swallowed and spoke up again. "The battle is over, but the war is far from that." Lydia's dark brown eyes met the Stormcloak's gray-blue ones. She sighed again, beginning to dig in once more. "I'm sorry I've been such a burden on you, Lydia. You deserve a life of your own..."

"That's nonsense!" The Housecarl interjected. She watched the woman who she was sworn to protect smile bitterly. "I am sworn to guard you with my life, to carry out your wishes and to shoulder your burdens. Why...?"

"Lydia." Aeiron's soft voice cut through her rant. "Don't misunderstand me; I appreciate _everything,_ " the general smiled lightly, taking another sip of milk before standing up slowly. Lydia's gaze followed her the entire way. "But..." The brunette sighed, looking down at the table before back up at her Housecarl. "If I'm stressing you out that much, just let me know. I can take care of myself, _Monah_."

Aeiron slowly walked to the door, picking up her signature steel battle axe  that hung on the weapons rack by the door. "Wait!" After sheathing her weapon, she turned to see Lydia standing from the table and looking like she was about to run after her. The general stood for a moment and turned to face her completely. "The Jarl wanted to see you. He wanted to see how you were doing."

The brunette smirked and turned to head for the door, waving at her with the back of her hand. "I'll be sure to stop by and say 'hello' to Vignar."

Lydia sighed and sat down after the door had closed. Aeiron was right; she was acting like her mother.

* * *

 

Heimskr was still preaching in front if the statue of Talos just like he was a month ago when she last walked through the Wind District of the city. The Gildergreen still had fresh flowers on its branches and children were still running through the city.

Aeiron also bitterly smiled at the fact that she still got the same dirty looks from the same people ever since the Battle of Whiterun, especially the Battle-Born family. She would smile pleasantly in greeting as she passed them, a practiced facade as they would scowl and grumble lowly behind her back. She returned the favor by smiling cynically at them.

The Stormcloak guards in the city made the offense seem more trifle than it actually was. They all nodded as she passed by, hand over their heart as they chanted her nickname on the battle field. She would laugh, just like a month ago and tell them to stand "at ease" as she passed by. Some of them would shake her hand, thank her for saving a parent, a sibling, a child. Aeiron would say as usual that she was just doing her job and thanked them for the kind words.

She mentally laughed when she saw the soldiers by the doors to Dragonsreach stand up straighter, heads higher in the air. One of them opened the door for her.

Aeiron nodded, a thank you leaving her lips as she ordered them to be "as they were". The second she entered the keep, attention was drawn her way. The Stormcloak guards on the inside by the door slackened their posture to gape at the war hero.

"Stormblade!"

They all saw her give her trademark smirk and wave them off casually. "Hi, fellas!"

As she casually walked up the stairs, Vignar was out of his seat and was walking towards her.

"Well, well!" He spoke loudly, clasping her forearm with his and shaking it firmly. "Look who decided to come by and say ‘hello’!" Aeiron smiled widely up at the man, laughing lightly as she let go of his arm.

"Lydia said you wanted to see me," she replied. The Jarl wrapped an arm around her shoulder and the two began walking towards the second staircase that led to the war room and to the Great Porch.

"I was getting worried," the old man confessed. The brunette shook her head and chuckled.

"All for little ol' me?"

“I missed our chess games.”

They reached the top of the stairs and Vignar unwrapped his arm, walking towards the strategy table where Hjornskar Head-Smasher stood as he eyed over the map on the tabletop. She sighed when she saw the change in his face and his body stiffen. His eyes were wide and blinking rapidly, almost bulging out of their sockets. His hand automatically went to his chest. "Storm-"

Aeiron raised her hand, smiling lightly and closing her eyes before looking up at the man once more. “It’s good to see you too, Head-Smasher.” Her hand went back to her side as she turned to look over at Vignar. “I have a feeling that I’m not here just for a little chat.” Aeiron’s gaze switched between Hjornskar and the Jarl for a moment before she sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Alright, what’s going on?”

The Jarl sighed. “It’s the Imperials.”

The brunette’s brow narrowed. “What about them?”

“We’ve recently received word that they may try to take back Whiterun soon.”

Both generals looked at each other for a moment before she looked back at Vignar. Aeiron let out a deep breath of air, glancing at a nearby wall before turning back to the two men. “Figures as much…”

“We all know you’re still recovering from your battle with Alduin—”

“To Oblivion with that!” The woman’s brogue was strengthened with her abrupt shouting. The two men blinked at her, apparently startled. “I’m fine enough to go to battle again if I must. Just say the word and I’ll run out there in a heartbeat!” Aeiron gestured to a wall far away from her before crossing her arms as if to stop any protests before they began.

Vignar chuckled lightly, admiring her ambition. “I was expecting you to say that. How’s your swinging arm?”

Aeiron shrugged with a casual smile. “I’ll need a few Imperials to warm up on, but otherwise fine.” The smile faded away as another thought came to mind. “Do you know _exactly_ what we’re up against?”

“We believe that they’re still planning out how they are going to strike, if at all.” The female general turned her head when she heard Hjornskar’s voice. “Ulfric already knows what’s going on and is sending in more troops over. We’ll let you know if we have any more information.” Aeiron nodded sternly and looked back at Vignar.

“Thanks for keeping me in the loop. I’ll be sure to stay close to home for the time being.”

Vignar nodded. “That would be a good idea.” He paused a moment, a wry smile slowly appearing as he looked down for a few seconds before looking back up at the brunette. “Why don’t you stop by Jorvaskr tomorrow?”

Aeiron blinked and tilted her head lightly to the side. “Jorvaskr?” she inquired. “Whatever for?”

“You’ve been in Whiterun for the past seven years and never once set foot through the front door. I think it’s about time we change that.”

He watched as the younger woman sighed in defeat, smiling lightly out of the humor of the whole situation. “Alright. Noon tomorrow. I’ll be taking my leave now,” she said as she took a few steps backwards and placed her hand over her heart, turning to look at the other general. “Head-Smasher.”

Hjornskar returned the gesture, smiling lightly. “Stormblade.”

She turned to look at the Jarl and repeated the motion. “Jarl Vignar.”

Vignar nodded lightly. “Have a good day, Aeiron.”

She beamed a smile at the two men before turning on her heel and marching out of the war room and down the stairs. 


	3. Chapter 3

Lydia insisted on tagging along with Aeiron to Jorvaskr the following day, adding to the brunette's annoyance after she had been literally dragged out of bed by her Housecarl. The two bickered as they sat at the table for breakfast at ten that morning. Her Thane's combat skills might have been rusty, but her wit was as sharp as ever. The lethal combination of general's wit and skill with her battle axe made her a feared adversary, whether the dispute be civil or bloody.

The pair bitterly downed their meals and went out the door after Aeiron finished her breakfast and went back upstairs to down her armor. It was about eleven o'clock when they left the house and were greeted by a gentle breeze traveling down the streets of Whiterun. The pair went next door to War Maiden's to pick up more arrows. Adrianne Avenicci hammered away at the hot metal until she saw the pair and dropped the blade into the bath of water beside the forge before walking up to the and greeting them.

"Aeiron," the Imperial smiled, crossing her arms and looking up at the housecarl for a moment before looking back at the Thane. "So glad to see you're doing well."

The brunette sighed, shrugging and pursing her lips. "Well, what can I say?" She let her hands fall and gestured towards her legs. "I'm just glad I didn't take an arrow to the knee."

Adrianne chuckled lightly. "Good to see you're still burning with passion. So..." She uncrossed her arms slowly and put her hands on her hips with a small smirk growing at the corner of her mouth. "What can I sell you, friend?"

"The usual, Adrianna." The general nodded. She then pointed up at Lydia (her mother). "Steel armor repairs for Lydia, and all the steel arrows you have." The blacksmith nodded and walked over to the forge to hand the younger woman a batch of 40 steel arrows. Aeiron handed her the coin with a smile as she added the arrows to her quiver and then slung it over her shoulder.

* * *

She waited for almost an hour for Lydia's armor to get repaired leaning against one of the support columns and watching the forge fires burn; her fingers mindlessly playing with a septem coin. Adrianne was still hammering and reforging new steel to repair the armor for the Housecarl. Lydia looked up at the Thane as she sat with her legs crossed on the ground and then up at the sky. The sun was almost directly overhead. "My Thane," she spoke up.

Aeiron looked down at her as if a trance had been lifted. The coin in her hand stopped abruptly as her grip on it tightened and her arm tensed. The brunette turned to see the body guard smiling up at her from her place on the ground right next to her Thane. "Why don't you go on ahead of me? I'm probably going to be here for at least another hour and you promised the Jarl that you would be at Jorvaskr at noon."

The general blinked at her, muscles slowly slacking. A small smile that began spreading wider made its way onto her face as she nodded. Aeiron beamed at the older woman as she pushed herself off of the column and started running up the street towards the market stalls.

Aeiron, along with just about everyone else in the city could hear Heimskr preaching about Talos from about a mile away when she reached the market stalls by the well. It never failed to wake the city's inhabitants at six in the morning. On the weekends, eight, if they were lucky...She climbed up the steps and the Thane fell into the habit of greeting the Stormcloak City Guards with a smile on her face and pride swelling in her chest.

"It's a nice day," the general remarked as they climbed the final steps. Aeiron raised a hand to block out the blinding sunlight and she paused for a moment at the top of the stairs, letting another light breeze blow by her. The scent of the blooming flowers on the Gildergreen made her think of Blue-Eyed Grass that bloomed back home for a split second, thinking about how pleasantly the two flowers smelled.

It seemed that the next time she blinked, she was at the top of the stairs leading to Jorvaskr, now pulling the door open and walking into hearing a Nord man slur "Hey, a fight!"

Aeiron abrutply paused, holding the door open a second longer before she continued walking in and standing in front of the blazing fire.

"Aeiron!" She looked up, seeing Brill sitting on a bench by the brawl between the Dunmer and the Nord woman. His hand beckoned her to come closer and she walked over without hesitation, taking a seat opposite to the steward. "Glad you made it." The general eyed the fighters for a moment before looking back at the older man, jabbing a thumb at the pair.

"Does everyone around here hate each other's guts or is this just a civil dispute?" She raised an eyebrow to punctuate her statement. Brill sighed and crossed his arms as he leaned back into his chair.

"Words always lead to violence. I think you should know that, Aeiron." They both looked at the pair, the Dark Elf now getting in a few good hits. "They're just settling things the old way."

Aeiron nodded, smirking lightly. "I prefer my fists to words. I was taught that actions speak louder than words." The Dunmer landed a good punch right to the gut and then another one to the chin with an uppercut.

"Son of a-" The Nord woman was interrupted by another punch to the jaw.

The steward shook his head before hollering out "Five septems on Stonefist!"

Aeiron leaned back in her chair, crossing her hands and watched the fight for a few minutes. The tables have seemingly been turned now as the woman began making a comeback, dodging more and her punches becoming harder. Aeiron's eyes were glued on the fighters' movements, already seeing patterns in the way they moved before, during, and after a strike. Put a sword in their hands and their movements would not be much different.

As more curse words and cheers rang through the air, her attention was drawn to a man standing in wolf armor with his hands on his hips, scowling at them with his good eye. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing the Nord with blonde hair drunk and slurring out bets with a bottle of mead in his hand. A woman with red hair in Ancient Nordic Armor stood by the man with one eye, and by her was a taller than average Nord man with war paint over his eyes, wearing the same style armor as Lydia.

Aeiron got up, sighing lightly as the two brutes continued at it. She walked over at the table and picked up a bottle of mead, taking a quick sip before seeing the woman pummel the elf into the ground. Aeiron smirked lightly as she held the bottle in one hand, the other pushing herself upright against the table as she slouched with her legs crossed. The general sighed, looking around and waiting for Vignar to show up. Meanwhile, she could hear the whispers about her begin to arise. Icing on the cake, she mused.

The Dark Elf got up and began fighting back, cursing at the woman and calling her a "bitch"Both of the general's eyebrows went up, smirk spreading slightly across her crooked mouth.

The redhead approached her then. "I haven't seen you around here before."

The general sighed, putting down the mead bottle as the two other men approached and looked up at the woman with a smile. "I was waiting for Vignar, but I guess he isn't here yet." Aeiron held out her hand, blinking widely with her smile faltering before she let it show itself again. "I'm Aeiron."

She saw the three visibly stiffen up. The woman blinked at her. "As in Aeiron  _Stormblade_?"

Aeiron nodded, eye twitching slightly. The words " _Oh, Fuck_ ," seemed to cross her mind at that moment. She could feel her heart rate begin to speed up as the woman scrutinized her in those painstaking awkward seconds. Finally, the woman smiled lightly at the brunette and shook her hand. "I'm Aela," she spoke, pulling her hand away and then pointing to the one-eyed man in the wolf armor. "This is Skjor."

Skjor smirked nodded, smirking lightly. Aela then pointed to the taller man. "And this is Farkas."

Aeiron blinked up at the tall man childishly. "You look like you give the best hugs."

Farkas laughed lightly at this, letting his head tilt back a bit. "I wasn't expecting to hear something like that." Aeiron giggled lightly, hand resting on her hip.

"So, the mighty  _Dragonborn_  graces us with her presence, huh?" The brunette looked up, seeing the older man's skeptical smirk. Her expression clearly showed her annoyance through her narrow eyes and and raised brow.

"Your point?" Aeiron stared him in the eye, blindly picking up her bottle of mead and taking a sip of it before putting it back down onto the table. The two stared at each other before Skjor chuckled and clapped the smaller woman on the shoulder.

"I like you, kid."

The general smirked at the sentence. "Heh, and here I was thought you people would hate my guts."

The group's attention went back to the pair fighting, seeing the woman, whom people were calling "Njada" getting the upper hand once more. Aeiron shook her head, picking up the mead bottle and taking another sip. "They fight like little kids," the words left her mouth before she could catch herself in time to stop them.

Njada paused and looked up from the Dark Elf "Athis" who was bent over on the floor and putting up his arm in defense from the woman's onslaught of punches. "What was that?" Her glare searched the spectators and found Aeiron, blood boiling from the Stormcloak general's smug smirk. The Nord woman stomped over to the group and Aeiron gently pushed past the Companions that stood by her.

"I said you fight like a child, clear as day."

"You little!" Njada went for a punch to the brunette's head but Aeiron blocked her punch with her forearm, effectively making the woman freeze for a moment before she countered with a punch to the jaw and a kick to the gut. The Nord woman stumbled back and two other companions carried away Athis to the other side of the mead hall.

The hide helmet that Njada wore fell to the ground. She looked up, seeing the Stormcloak general putting her battle axe on the long table and cracking her knuckles before rolling her shoulders and putting her hands up, the side of her body facing the other woman. Njada growled before running up to her, ready to sling a punch at the brunette.

Aeiron ducked and went to the other side of her arm, grabbing her wrist with her left hand and landing her right elbow in the Companion's gut before backhanding her right to the nose. Once again, Njada stumbled away and the crowd came in closer than last time, the cheers louder and the bets higher.

Njada charged again, once again trying to slug Aeiron with a right hook, with the brunette effortlessly dodged by stepping to the side and kicking the woman right in the face. She followed with another kick, this time with her right foot and then a two-hand combo to the chest and then a headbutt.

Meanwhile, from the stairs that lead to the living quarters down below, Vignar walked up the flight of stairs, talking with two other warriors wearing Wolf armor as well. "I can assure you, Kodlak, she would be a great asset to the Companions. She's one of Ulfric's best soldiers and one of the best warriors I've ever see-"

"Twenty septems on the Stormcloak!"

There was a pause before Vignar sighed and shook his head. "Looks like she's here already." The three men walked up and pushed their way through the crowd that gathered around, seeing the two women at it. Kodlak blinked and raised his eyebrows as Aeiron continued to duck and weave and Njada continued throwing punches. The brunette blocked once more with her left forearm and countered with a kick to the chest and then raised her foot to land another kick to the face.

Njada stumbled back once more. She was becoming more sluggish, Aeiron noted. Her movements became slower, but her hits harder. "Kodlak," the Jarl sighed. "Meet Aeiron Stormblade of the Stormcloaks."

"What about me?" The brunette paused, looking towards Vignar, Kodlak, and the other man. The Companion she was sparring with landed a punch right to the dome and made the general stumble backwards. The crowd winced at the hit before the cheers started up once more. The older Companion looked at the younger man, bending his head slightly to the side.

"What do you think, Vilkas?"

The younger man gave Kodlak a side glance before looking back at the fight. "She's good. I've never seen this fighting style before." His sentence was punctuated with Aeiron grabbing Njada's arm and pulling her in for a knee kick her gut before landing a blow to her head with her palm and putting her body weight into it. Once again, Njada stumbled back, and by now, she was covered in bruises and cuts on her arms and was now sporting a black eye and bloody nose.

Kodlak nodded and looked back up at the brawl. "Neither have I. Maybe this newcomer can teach us a few things." Vilkas watched as he walked to the center of the arena and grabbed Njada's fist just as she was about to try to punch the general once more. "That's enough!"

Both women froze to look at the older man. Blinking several times, Aeiron lowered and unclenched her fists. "Ria, Torvar, carry Njada downstairs and get Tilma to treat her wounds."

One Imperial woman and the drunk Nord from before nodded before emerging from the crowd and wrapping her arms around their shoulders. Kodlak straightened up, eyeing the crowd as the three slowly made their way towards the staircase in back. "The rest of you," he continued. "Disperse. There is nothing left to see here." The people slowly walked away, some grumbling about losing bets and how good entertainment was spoiled. Farkas, Aela, Skjor, and Brill were the only ones who remained.

Aeiron swallowed and went to get her battle axe off of the table before rushing out the door. Right when she sheathed it, Kodlak's booming voice froze her in place. "Wait!"

It was at that moment that Lydia rushed through the door of Jorvaskr, panting slightly as she stood in the doorway. Aeiron slowly turned to face the Companion members, swallowing Housecarl didn't wait as she rushed down to her Thane's side. The general let her hand linger on the handle of her weapon as she eyed the group.

"That fight was impressive on your part," Kodlak spoke up again. "but Jorvaskr is not a place of which Companions hurt each other for pleasure."

The brunette nodded. "Apologies, Harbinger. But in my defence, she came at me first."

"It's true," Aela spoke up. Aeiron looked at the redhead for a moment, clearly bewildered.

Kodlak crossed his arms and looked at Skjor and Farkas. "Is this true?"

"Yes, Harbinger." Farkas answered.

Skjor nodded. "I saw the whole thing. Njada flew off the handle and tried to attack her."

"Hmm." The Harbinger nodded in deep thought. Vignar looked at the general and sighed.

"You can't go anywhere without stirring up trouble, can you?" the Jarl asked.

The brunette laughed nervously, letting her hand fall from the handle of her weapon and back down to her side.

"What is your name, Lass?"

The general blinked for a moment before beaming a smile at Kodlak. "Aeiron Stormblade."

Kodlak stared for a moment more before chuckling. The younger woman blinked at him questioningly. "You remind me of an old friend."

"Who, exactly?" Aeiron raised an eyebrow.

"Philip Leon-Croí. He and I used to be good friends. He had a daughter who looked a lot like you do when he came here seven years ago."

"I know." Aeiron sighed bitterly with her smile wavering. Vignar pursed his lips and looked away as Kodlak gave her a quizzical look. She looked away, sighing once more before looking back up at him. "He's my father."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are becoming more fun to write during my boring Study Hall periods! :D Any feedback is greatly appreciated! Thank you! ^^

"Your father was well known in these parts," Kodlak walked with down the steps down to the living quarters and down the long hallway. "He was a Companion himself for a few years before settling down with your mother, Theresa."

Aeiron smiled and nodded, lowering her head briefly before looking back at the older man. "Yeah, he chased her for a few years from what I had heard." The Harbinger chuckled as he opened a set of double doors once they reached the end of the hall. The old man sat down in the chair to the right of a small round table.

"Yes, that's true." He answered as he gestured a hand to the empty chair. Aeiron stared at him for a moment before slowly walking over to the chair. She unsheathed her battle axe and leaned it against the wall before leaning back in the chair with a sigh, hands grasping the arms of the chair tightly as she looked over at Kodlak. "He was among our highest ranks in The Circle."

The brunette nodded, folding her arms across her chest and sighing lightly. "My father and I left once my mother was taken by the Thalmor. She's most likely dead by now..." Aeiron looked up at the ceiling with a short pause before looking down at the floor. "Dad and I moved to Cyrodiil and lived there for a while. He was..." She looked up at Kodlak for a second before eyeing the wall at the end of the hall. "In one of the elite units when he fought in the Great War, and he got a job as a city guard when we moved."

Kodlak leaned back in his seat, eyeing the girl gently. "He used to work the craziest hours, and this was when he was in his late forties, early fifties." The brunette chuckled, clasping and unclasping her hands. "I could have lost him so many times, but he was so happy that he could function. He was a highly decorated soldier."

"Of that I am sure." The old man smiled wryly. There was a pause between them. The doors down the hallway opened and closed gently. Kodlak stared down the hallway and eyed the whelps and other members as they walked around.

"I'm still looking for him." She finally spoke up. He drew his attention back to the younger woman. After a moment, a heavy sigh left him.

"We all know you are. But he's reached a very old age where it would be most likely that he could no longer pick up a blade."

Aeiron chuckled and shook her head. "He taught me everything I know, Kodlak." She smirked at the old man before crossing one leg over her knee and letting go of the chair arms. "And for a man who will be seventy one this coming winter, he's a tough bastard to kill."

Kodlak eyed her for a few seconds, searching her face before shaking his head and chuckling dryly. "I suppose you're right on that account."

A knock came at the door. Both of them turned and looked up at the open doorway to see Vilkas standing there, knuckles grazing the wood trim. "Harbinger, a moment?"

The old man nodded and gave a smile at Aeiron. "Aeiron, Vignar said you would be a valuable asset to the Companions. The two younger warriors visibly stiffened.

"He did?"

Kodlak nodded.

"Master, you can't be serious-"

"I am nobody's master, Vilkas." The Harbinger turned to look at the younger man. "And last time I checked, there were empty beds for those who have a fire burning in their hearts."

Aeiron saw Vilkas scowl and glare at her. She tensed up, gulping slightly and hand unconsciously drifting closer to her weapon. "But Harbinger," Vilkas protested. "You've never seen her in combat besides in the brawl."

"No, but we shall find out how well she fairs. Take her out to the training yard to see if she lives up to the legend."

"Yes, Harbinger." Vilkas sighed and around, storming away. Aeiron sighed and sheathed her axe over her head and was about to walk out of the room.

"I apologize for Vilkas' behavior." Kodlak spoke up. The brunette paused and turned on her heel to face him. The Harbinger offered an encouraging smile. "He's the type that doesn't warm up to people right away."

Aeiron chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. "That explains a lot. If I didn't know any better, I would say that he was jealous of me for not having your undivided attention."

The older man merely sighed and shook his head. "I will be going up to the training yard myself to watch."

The general paused once more as she was about to leave again. Over her shoulder, Aeiron gave the Harbinger a surprised look. "Has Vignar really spoken so highly of me?"

Kodlak nodded. "I have to admit, I am a bit curious of how well your reputation holds myself." The man walked up to the younger woman and began walking with her down the corridor towards the stairs. And much to the general's annoyance, she already had a fanfare trailing in back of them, including a bloodied and recovering Njada Stonearm and Athis following them with some assistance. As if she wasn't nervous enough!

The doors to the training yard opened and she was greeted by a crowding group of Companions that was much bigger than she expected; more or less of what she felt to be half of Whiterun showed up for this little sparring match that was only arranged a few seconds ago unless... Aeiron scowled at the Jarl as she passed him on her way down the small stairs. Vignar merely smiled at her as she passed by.

Kodlak took a seat at a table by Vignar, Aela, Skjor, and Lydia. Farkas and Lydia stood right by the table on the opposite side of the outdoor patio. "I feel like you're trying to sell me a horse, Vignar." The Harbinger sighed as he sat down, picking up a tankard full of mead. The Jarl merely laughed with a grin.

"Don't tell me you hadn't had your eye on her for a while. You know she's an almost exact replica of Phil." The Gray-Mane took a sip of a bottle of Ale as Kodlak shook his head.

"I just hope she won't make his mistakes." Kodlak eyed the Stormcloak as she unsheathed her battle axe and stood in front of Vilkas, who had a banded iron shield and was armed with a one-handed sword.

"Just swing when you're ready," the Companion instructed. Aeiron frowned.

"Where's your greatsword?"

"I don't use it when evaluating whelps." She could hear his distaste for her in his voice, practically feel it. The brunette sighed and brought up her axe to rest the long handle across her shoulders.

"Well then," Aeiron blew out the air in her lungs and looked around in the crows as she mentally took attendance of who was there. Lydia smiled at her, which the brunette returned for a moment before turning to face Vilkas. "That shield won't do you much good." She nodded towards the shield in his left hand.

The Nord frowned at her. "Why not?"

Aeiron resisted the urge to laugh as she sighed once more, looking down at her feet before looking back up. "This axe has sliced cleanly though Elven, Steel, Falmer, and Orcish armors. I highly doubt that an iron shield will stop this thing." She couldn't help but let the scarred side of her lips twist up in a smirk.

The Companion straightened up and lowered his arms. "Alright then, what do you propose?"

"Marriage?" The general grinned. The audience laughed at the joke as Vilkas scowled and rolled his eyes.

"I was thinking more along the lines of the current situation." He raised an eyebrow at her and the brunette laughed lightly.

"Why don't we use wooden weapons so you don't split me in two and I don't slice your gut open?"

Vilkas sighed in annoyance but complied, setting the sword and shield down to the side as Aeiron leaned her battle axe against the stone wall. They both picked up the wooden forms of their respectable weapons from a nearby weapons rack and squared off. Vilkas smirked and got into his usual stance. "Whenever you're ready."

Vignar from the audience smirked widely and looked up at Kodlak, along with Aela and Skjor to see the studying look in his eyes. Aeiron twirled the handle of the wooden battle axe, bringing the weapon behind her in one swift motion before lunging at him and feigning to the side at the last second. Vilkas barely had time to dodge as she shot right past him, turning her body into her first swing aimed at his back. The Companion rolled out of the way just in time to bring his sword up to block a downwards strike aimed at his head.

Looking down, he saw the butt of her weapon coming straight at his face. He fell backwards as the end of the handle collided with his jaw. Vilkas stumbled backwards, seeing Aeiron standing above her as she held the wooden weapon on one hand. Her eyes were now an ice-blue as she stared down at him with a porcelain fixed face and parted lips that let heavy breaths flow through them. A howl ripped through his veins as he snarled and got up.

"Kodlak," Aela spoke up.

"I know," The Harbinger nodded as he watched the fight. "He's fighting it, though."

Vilkas let out a battle cry and charged at the general, who rolled to the side and swung the wooden axe around her to strike his back. Aeiron quickly stood and took a step forward as she brought the axe down once more. The general continued swinging repeatedly at him, all of which he blocked with his wooden greatsword.

A sweep to his knees caught the man off guard as he fell backwards and Aeiron swung down and stopping right at his neck. The Companion gritted his teeth tighter as he looked up at her. Aeiron stared at him for a moment, smirking as she slightly panted while holding her wooden weapon In place a few seconds more before straightening herself and pulling away. "Still think I'm just a whelp now?" chuckling lightly, Aeiron turned and brought her weapon up to rest the long handle on her shoulders before trotting off.

She froze when she heard a snarl in back of her. Turning to look over her shoulder, Aeiron froze entirely before turning to face him again as the panic began to set in. Even in the blinding sunlight, she could see that his eyes were now a bright Dwarven metal gold color.

"Kodlak-" Skjor was now the one to address the Harbinger this time. Kodlak glanced at the other man for a moment before nodding and standing up.

Vilkas snarled and growled lowly, bringing up the sword as he began charging at her. The general bent her knees and gritted her teeth. If she could take down Alduin the World-Eater, then she could take down a lycanthropy-crazed freak. Kodlak rushed to the foot of the steps, pushing past others standing in the way.

"Vilkas!"

As he neared her and let another battle cry out the word already began drawing a picture in her mind, the wind writing itself in the pitch black. The shouting got louder in her mind;the word repeating itself on a chant, almost effectively blocking out the warning shout from her Housecarl by the patio.

The Draugr Death Lord from Bleak Falls Barrow flashed before her mind, Mirmulnir's breath consumed her, and Aeiron opened her eyes right when Vilkas was about to swing down at her body.

"FUS!"

As expected, the Companion was sent flying backwards, finally stopped by the stone wall. Vilkas groaned loudly as he sunk to the floor, eyes now their usual ice-blue color as they blinked rapidly and the man shook his head. The next thing he knew, Farkas and Skjor were running over to him.

"Vilkas, are you alright?" The twin asked.

"What happened, Vilkas?" Skjor's question seemed to be the more pressing one at the moment. The Companion shook his head as he held his hand to his forehead.

"I...I don't know...My head hurts," Vilkas groaned as he let his head fall forwards and his body slouch. His vision began to blur, but he saw the brunette standing a ways from him, loosely holding the wooden battle axe in her left hand as she stared at the three of them with bewildered eyes. As much as the growling in his head told him to attack her, he couldn't. The only person that Vilkas could bring himself to hate was himself for losing control over the situation.

"Let's get him looked up at Farkas, who nodded back at the older man as they both eased him up off of the ground and began carrying him inside. Aeiron watched with disheartened eyes as he passed by and she felt her gut turn inside out. A hand rested firmly on her shoulder and she looked up to see Lydia giving her a reassuring smile, squeezing her shoulder gently.

"Lydia I had no choice. He was gonna-"

"It's alright, my Thane." The older woman stopped her and Aeiron blinked up at the Housecarl in surprise. Vignar walked over, stopping in front of the two women. The general immediately frowned at the older man.

"You set this up, didn't you?!" Aeiron raised an accusing finger at the Jarl, who immediately brought his hands up in defence. "You dirty skeever!"

"My Thane!" Lydia chided.

Vignar shook his head and chuckled. "It's alright, Lydia." he brought down his arms and relaxed. "Yes, I wanted you to join The Companions. I need you to have more hobbies besides sniping Imperial soldiers transporting captured soldiers and slicing their heads off to mount them on pikes outside the city for the hell of it!"

The general swallowed and shrunk down as the older man continued on. "Yes, it's true that you're a terrific warrior, just like your father. But you need to learn  _control_!" Vignar took a deep breath and softened the look on his face. "I can't keep letting you run around on little and skipping meals to no sleep fighting dragons and enemy soldiers. You're destroying yourself, Aeiron, and it needs to stop."

Aeiron sighed, looking down at her feet before looking back up at the older man. She stared at him for a second, then another, and then another before a crooked smirk appeared at the scarred corner of her mouth. "Vignar, I already have one person nipping at my heals and telling me how to live my life. I think the Jarl of Whiterun would be too busy to be another to add to the list. Stop worrying over nothing!"

The Housecarl and Jarl stared after her as she skipped off before they could argue back and grab her battle axe that was leaning on the stone wall. As the pair watched her head inside. Vignar shook his head and looked over at Lydia. "I don't know how you put up with her." The woman merely heaved a breath and shrugged her shoulders in responce.

"I honestly don't know myself, my Jarl." She looked back at the man. The Jarl's gaze went back to the set of doors that Aeiron and the rest of the Companions went through.

"Phil was the same way; literally sleeping on the benches in the mead hall after walking in around four o'clock in the morning."

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "Do you know why?"

Vignar exhaled heavily. He looked back at the Housecarl. "His first marriage after he came back from the Great War only lasted four years. His wife cheated on him and was threatening him that he would never see their two daughters again if she didn't get a certain amount of gold per week. After Theresa, Aeiron's mother and his second wife, was taken by those damned High Elves, he fell into the same pattern as back then."

"So...you think it's stress?"

"And mourning, yes?" Vignar sighed. "She's been looking for the man for five years...two years after Helgen."

Lydia nodded and looked down at the ground. "I see…I never knew about her father. Just that she was someone she was extremely proud of. I saw her break both of a man's arms and one of his legs in a brawl when he insulted her father's name in front of her. I swear, she looked like she was about to rip the man's heart out…"

The Jarl chuckled bitterly as he began leading the Housecarl inside with him. "That sounds about right."

* * *

A feast was held in honor of the newest member of the guild later on that evening. Aeiron was swarmed by the whelps, whom she would be bunking with from here on end. Lydia promptly kicked her out of Breezehome and told her to "re-evaluate her decisions and habits" along for her to do some "soul searching".

The members who sat at the table listened attentively to her story of her first dragon encounter after Helgen, when she fought Mirmulnir at the ruined Western Watchtower. The group of violence-loving mercenaries was thoroughly intoxicated off of Nord Mead, with the exception of the Housecarl, Kodlak, Aeiron herself, and the Jarl and his steward.

"And so, as the dragon started using the guards as toothpicks," she paused. "Literally." The group chuckled lightly as she went on. "I jumped off of the top of the tower and sliced the dragon's head off with my axe!" Aeiron smiled innocently, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder.

Njada scoffed and rolled her eyes. "How on  _Nirn_  would you have survived the fall?"

The general gave a cynical smirk and shrugged. "The mountain of corpses kind of helped.  
I also landed on top of the dragon's body before I hit the ground and twisted my ankle the wrong way." The brunette looked to the side in annoyance. "I was hobbling around like an old person on a crutch for six or seven weeks. Lydia didn't help either." Aeiron straightened up in her seat and nodded towards the Housecarl. "She was insisting on carrying me around the entire city on her back as if I had forgotten how to walk."

Low snickering could be heard as Lydia gasped lightly and glared at the Thane. "You were injured and you don't know when to give up!"

"Damn straight!" Aeiron raised the bottle of mead she was holding in the air and took a sip. Laughter reached her ears and warmed her insides more than the alcohol was ever capable of.

Lydia rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"You love me anyways, Lydia~!" the brunette sang out, wearing an impish grin that was spread across her face.

The Housecarl then glared at her. "That is something I am questioning."

Kodlak chuckled and stood up, hoisting his tankard in the air. "Fellow Companions!" his voice bellowed out. "To our newest member, Aeiron Stormblade!"

Njada begrudgingly raised her tankard with the rest of the Companions in the room, barely sober enough to walk and mind fuzzy from mead. Aeiron scanned the room once more, seeing Vignar and Brill stand up, along with most of the others.

"To Aeiron!" The large cry reached her ears and at that moment, she felt as welcomed as she did when the Stormcloak celebrated her victory over Alduin and the conquering over Solitude and all of her other campaigns that she went on under Ulfric's banner.

She felt at home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive any errors and any OOC moments. I tried ^^; Let me know what you think? :)  
> I also drew a picture of Aeiron! :)

**Picture** : [x](http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2013/321/6/b/iron____by_chocolafied-d6uiwdt.png)

* * *

 

Aeiron walked back upstairs to the mead hall at around three in the morning since sleep wasn't coming to her anytime soon. She groaned as she stretched her arms over her head and felt her spine crack in a few places. The silence was comforting, to say the least. Everyone left around midnight and the Companions went to bed an hour later after another round of drinks in Farkas' room, where they made her tell another adventuring story, and so she did.

She told the story of the one time she went to the Reach and was ambushed by a Forsworn group with Lydia and how she was lucky that a troll came along. The Briar-Heart didn't die right away, she described to her annoyance as she recalled the fight. Aeiron wound up stabbing him with his own sword in the end after him dropping one and losing her battle axe in the brawl. Lydia nearly died that night and from then on, she traveled by herself for the most part.

Aela comforted her slightly and the Companions wound up trading tips with the brunette over their mead back and forth. Aeiron gave the best tips for taking out dragons, after fighting them for so long.

"If you have a shield, use it." She warned. "Sharpen the edges and toss in the air like a disc if you have a round and metal one. Shields are also good on blocking fire or frost breath."

She remembered Farkas blinking at her a few times and asking her why she doesn't carry one.

The general shrugged and said that she was shit-for-brains when it came to thinking about a good defence. The crowd laughed and finished their drinks before hitting the hay. Njada seemed to warm up to her a bit, thanking her for the tip. Aeiron apologized for the brawl earlier that day, in which Njada shrugged and left the room.

After thanking Farkas for showing her to the Whelps quarters and settling in one of the vacant beds on the far right side of the room, she stripped herself of her armor and downed one of the tunics that Lydia had brought over along with a few changes of clothing. Vignar and Kodlak agreed that she should stay at Jorvaskr for whatever reason they made up. She would have left had Lydia not informally kicked her out of Breezehome.

She chuckled dryly, taking another sip of a chocolate milk jug that her Housecarl had left her. The scene had been humorous to the other Companions. Aeiron couldn't say the same thing, though. She felt like she was in school all over again like she was back in Cyrodiil, where her father would drop her off and pick her up at the beginning and end of the day.

The door to the living quarters opened and Aeiron merely turned her head in the direction of the approaching footsteps. She saw Vilkas coming up the stairs slowly, a tired look on his face. "Good morning, Grumpy." She greeted quietly. The older man raised an eyebrow at her and took a seat across her, grabbing a bottle of mead along the way.

"Hmm." He groaned in reply, unscrewing the lid and taking a sip.

The brunette raised an eyebrow. "Not very talkative, are you?"

"Not this early in the morning like everyone else on a day schedule, no." He quietly replied as he opened his book and began reading.

Aeiron sighed and leaned back in her seat, looking up at the ceiling. "Why on earth would they use a ship for a ceiling in this place is completely beyond me." The question was directed more at herself then at the other Companion, but nonetheless, he picked his head up and quirked an eyebrow.

He sighed lightly before looking down at the book again. "It was made for the return of the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor." Aeiron blinked and looked down from the ceiling, eyes now fixed on Vilkas. "Jeek of the River, its captain and the twenty two man crew left the Circle of Captains and settled here which is now presently Whiterun hold. They then discovered the Skyforge," He leaned back in his seat, settling the book to the side and now making eye contact with the brunette. "and built Jorvaskr," Vilkas raised his hand and gestured around the room. "which Whiterun was slowly built around."

She nodded and looked away for a moment and processed the information. Vilkas kept studying her some more and was about to go back to his book when she asked, "Does anyone know how the Skyforge was built?"

He blinked at her for a moment, setting the book back down before looking back up at Aeiron. "No, unfortunately. It's considered a mystery around here."

"Hmm," the woman sighed lightly before a tired chuckle left her. "I'm surprised you're not a scholar."

"I would like to learn more, but Jorvaskr is my home, and Home I long to stay."

"How poetic," Aeiron smiled. Vilkas raised an eyebrow. "It makes me wonder why such an intelligent and attractive man such as yourself hasn't been claimed yet."

Vilkas smirked lightly at the comment and took another swig of mead. "Now why on Nirn would you wonder such a thing?"

Aeiron shrugged lightly, her mouth twitching nervously. "Curiosity gets the best of me a good portion of the time."

"I thought Curiosity killed the Khajiit."

"That maybe true, but Satisfaction brought it back."

She watched the man laugh dryly. "You have a quick wit and tongue. I take it that has gotten you into trouble?"

Aeiron toasted the Companion and laughed nervously. "Many a time." Vilkas laughed slightly louder this time as she took a quick sip and set the bottle back down on the table. "Lydia says I have the habit of leaping before I look."

"You're Housecarl seems to know you well. I'll take your word for it."

"Farkas and Aela also say that you sleep like a log and have a habit of coming across as aloof and yet here we are, drinking like friends. Should I believe them?" Aeiorn smirked slightly when she saw the glare come across his face. Vilkas then shook his head and picked up his bottle of mead. She chuckled and sighed, grinning widely. "You don't seem that bad," she added, looking back up at him.

Vilkas paused and raised an eyebrow. "How so?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Well," the brunette sighed. "You seem to open up if given the right approach. You don't like idle chit chat, that much I can tell." The man raised both of his eyebrows at her as he continued listening. "You're quiet and reserved, from what I can tell. Maybe you feel left out, maybe you look down on people who don't think like you do." Aeiron shrugged and looked at him. "Who can tell?"

"I don't know enough about you to say that you're kind-hearted, or that you're loving, but I can tell that you're loyal to a fault." she smiled at him and eyed the fire that was still burning by the main steps. Vilkas stared at her, blinking before speaking up.

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"You were protective over Kodlak. Very protective." she replied without looking away from the flames. "I used to act that way around my Dad all the time," Aeiron finally looked back at the Companion. His eyes widened when he saw the bitter smile on her face and that her eyes were becoming glassy. "I envy you for that, but at the same time, I can relate." the brunette chuckled sorely, taking another swig of her drink.

He looked away, lowering his head, unsure of what to say exactly. The wolf growled for him to hold her, comfort her for some reason. Vilkas gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Losing control like earlier today was the last thing he wanted to do. "Vilkas?" Aeiron asked quietly.

Vilkas froze, his body loosening up as he looked up at her tired smile. "I'm sorry for earlier today. I didn't know what happened, or what possessed you to act the way you did,"

"Aeiron," he tried interjecting, but she continued.

"But I forgive you." she sighed. "Let's just put it in back of us and not look back at that now, hm?"

Vilkas stared at her, absolutely and completely bewildered. His eyes trailed after her as she got up and brought her bottle of chocolate milk with her. "Well," she paused, turning around to face him. "Goodnight, Vilkas."

He stared after her for a silent few seconds before he called after her, "Goodnight…" When the doors closed behind her, Vilkas sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He now saw why everyone liked her so much. She completely caught him off guard with how quiet she was from how loud and obnoxious she was earlier on. Her accent intrigued him as well. He knew she wasn't native to Skyrim, so where could she be from?

The Companion's lips twitched upwards as he picked up his bottle of mead and reopened his book. Maybe Aeiron Stormblade wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

At eleven o'clock in the morning, Aeiron was rudely awakened by Athis, Torvar, and Ria, who all wanted her to show them some moves on her battle axe. "Five more minutes," she groaned as she put the pillow over her head. Ria sighed, hands on her hips.

"Well, what do we do?" she looked up at the Nord and Dunmer.

"Want to call Farkas in here to drag her out of bed?" Athis looked over at Torvar, who grinned mischeviously.

"Sure…" the blond man ran out of the Whelps quarters faster than both of them could blink, the shouts of "FARKAS! GET OVER HERE!" echoing off of the walls.

The two whispering above her head were annoying her, but Aeiron was soon finding herself drifting off to dreamland once more, that was, until she felt the skins being ripped off of her body and two big hands grip her arm and haul her over someone's shoulder. She immediately began kicking and screaming.

"WHAT! FARKAS! WHAT ARE YOU- PUT ME DOWN! IT'S TOO EARLY!"

"Rise and shine, Stormblade. The Whelps want training."

"But isn't that what The Circle's for?"

Aeiron's frown deepened when she heard the bigger man underneath her chuckle as he carried her up the steps. "PUT ME DOWN! WHY CAN'T WE HAVE NICE THINGS IN LIFE? I SAY! PUT ME THE HELL DOWN!"

Meanwhile the racket passed by the dining table in the mead hall, Kodlak, Aela and Skjor all exchanged glances before the Harbinger quirked an eyebrow. "Farkas." The bigger man paused and Aeiron stopped squirming for a moment. Both blinked at the older man. "What's going on here?"

"The Whelps want Aeiron to train them using battle axes." Farkas gabbed a thumb in back of him to emphasize his point.

"Ah," the older man nodded with a smile. "Carry on, then."

"WHAT!" Aeiron's eyes bugged out as Farkas smirked and continued carrying her out to the training yard. "KODLAK. WHY ARE YOU LETTING THEM DO THIS TO ME?" She gave a few fake sobs with no tears coming out of her eyes as the door opened. "KODLA-" the door closed behind the two and was abruptly slammed in her face. Torvar, Ria, and Athis all went through the other set of doors with a begrudging Njada following behind them.

Vignar came out of his room with Brill following him. "What's going on?" The Jarl asked, eyeing the doors leading to the training yard and then Kodlak once more.

"Aeiron agreed to training the Whelps." The Harbinger smiled impishly. Vignar blinked a few times before throwing his head back and laughing loudly into the air. Brill smirked and eyed the door. Aela and Skjor both shared a look before getting up and heading for the training yard.

"Best to make sure that she doesn't kill anyone," Skjor spoke up when Kodlak eyed the pair questioningly.

"You know how annoying Whelps can be." the redhead added before they quickly left the mead hall. The Harbinger chuckled knowingly and took a sip of his mead and then looking back up at the Jarl.

"Shall we?"

The Gray-Mane shrugged. "Why not?" The trio then left the mead hall to spectate the training session or entertainment that was too good to pass up.

Farkas unceremoniously dropped the brunette and let her land flat on her butt with a groan while she scowled at him. A soft chuckle came from the patio area, where she looked next to see Vilkas watching with both his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. Aeiron sighed nervously as she got up.

"I'm still in my nightwear, you know." She didn't get a response as Ria handed her the general's signature battle axe.

"No one in The Companions or Circle fights quite like you do. We were hoping you would show us some basics with two handed weapons."

Aeiron stared at her battle axe for a moment, reconsidering the offer. "I'm also pretty good at archery and dual wielding, you know." The Whelps' faces brightened up considerably when they saw her smirk lightly at them. "I could also show you some new weapons. Swords and blades aren't everything, you know."

"Really?" Farkas raised an eyebrow at the brunette. Aeiron nodded and held up her battle axe and moved it so it rested on her shoulders.

By this time, Aela and Skjor were now coming out onto the patio area. The one eyed man looked over to see a smirking Vilkas and raised an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

Vilkas eyed the pair for a moment before looking back at the group that was moving away as Aeiron was stretching lightly. "Just watch."

Farkas unsheathed his greatsword and readied his stance. "Vilkas is smaller than I am. One swing is all I need to cut you in two, small one."

Aeiron returned his smirk and twirled her battle axe around her, tossing it in the air before pointing it at him with one arm. "If you can get a cut on me, that is." She raised her left hand and gripped the lower part of the axe's handle. Farkas came charging at her and her smirk widened into a crooked grin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter makes things escalate quickly...I apologize if things seem rushed. Things will be explained with more clarification in the next chapters. ^^

Farkas was a lot different from his brother by not just his appearance and disposition. Every time that he came charging at Aeiron while raising his sword for another strike, she barely had enough time to roll or shift out of the way and try to strike his sides. Vilkas, by far, was a more calculated fighter. The other twin just kept going, and this was something that made her slightly nervous.

He could easily overpower her from up close if she tried to block a strike. She began feeling the adrenaline turning into panic as she dodged once more, rolling out past him and going back to a fighting stance. The air that left her lungs began to come out choppy and ragged. As Farkas was turning around to face her once more, Aeiron caught sight of the patio and saw Vikas, Skjor, and Kodlak’s approving looks. And then there was Vilkas with his scrutinizing eyes…

When she heard the sword lightly tap Farkas’ steel armor, her eyes went back to her opponent. Her feet pushed her forward as she came charging at him this time with a leap, shouting out into the air.

“I’m impressed.” Kodlak nodded lightly. Vignar chuckled lightly at the comment.

“I thought you were impressed yesterday.”

“Farkas is one of our most aggressive fighters, next to Njada and Vilkas is he’s riled up enough.” Skjor remarked, eyes still trained on the sparring match. “Vilkas doesn’t even last ten minutes with him before both are panting and calling it a draw.”

Vignar nodded and turned his eyes back to the match. “And how long have we been out here?”

“Half an hour, give or take.” Kodlak glanced briefly at the Jarl.

The Gray-Mane raised his eyebrows. “That long? I thought it’s only been fifteen minutes!”

Through uneven and harsh breathing, the Companion smirked at the brunette as she came at him, swinging the axe around her body and spinning as she brought the weapon around her and the blade collided with his sword once more. Farkas brought up his sword over his head and let out another battle cry. Aeiron looked up, the panic making her heart swell for a moment before her eyes locked in on his exposed chest and she acted before her mind caught up with her. Aeiron put all of her body weight behind her and tackled him to the ground.

The bigger man was startled, to say the least as he fell onto his back and his sword fell a few feet away from him. Farkas reached for it, but the blade of the brunette’s axe caught his eye and he felt the familiar ice-cold feeling that metal had. Looking up, he saw Aeiron pinning one arm to the ground under her leg as she straddled his chest, blade barely touching his neck as she held the handle of her axe in both hands. The glare from the sun shined up at her face from her axe and showed her ice-blue eyes piercing his. He stared for a moment, both heavily breathing as her eyes changed back to their usual grayish blue hues.

Aeiron smirked and drew another heavy breath before they both looked up at the patio when hearing the round of applause coming their way. She got off of him and used her weapon as a support as she extended a hand towards Farkas, who was still staring up at her with a goofy look and heavy breathing. “Need a hand?”

He blinked a few times before smiling weakly and taking her hand. Aeiron gritted her teeth as her arm was nearly ripped from its socket and he nonchalantly stood up, grinning at her lightly. “Thanks.”

She glanced up from her arm briefly to look at him and back down at her arm as it twitched and pulsed and she mentally wanted to cry. “Welcome,” she replied hoarsly before walking over to the patio, holding her axe in her other hand and plopping down at one of the tables and snatching a loaf of freshly baked bread from Torvar who was sitting next to her.

“Hey!” the blond Nord glared at her darkly while Aeiron merely smirked at him teasingly and raised her eyebrows before she bit into it.

“Just a minute.”

She paused as she slung the battle axe over her shoulder, turning to see Vilkas looking at her with a smug smirk as he stood up, a tankard of ale in his hand. Blinking a few times, she turned to face him, eyeing him strangely as he approached her. When he was right in front of her, he stopped, looking down at her. “I want a rematch.” he simply stated.

Whispers among the Whelps began building up and the other members of The Circle began exchanging looks silently. Kodlak stared at the two, raising an eyebrow. Aeiron’s jaw nerely dropped as she dryly swallowed. “W-What?”

Vilkas unsheathed his sword to prove his point and waltzed over to the training yard and turned to face her, nodding to the opposite side. Aeiron frowned and blinked before laughing lightly and turning around. “Here, Torvar!” she handed him the bitten bread and cruised over to where she faced off Farkas before hand. Said brother watched her walk past him and was about to interject when her knuckles lightly tapped against his chest plate. “Don’t worry, Farkas. I’ll be fine.”

Skjor looked over at Kodlak and tensed his shoulders under his wolf armor. “Harbinger.”

The older man sighed expectantly and looked back up at the two. “Let them, Skjor. The two are so alike it’s pointless to argue with the two.”

“In likes of hotheadedness?” Aela chimed in and the two men chuckled.

“Sounds about right,” Vignar commented, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

Aeiron squared off against him, letting the handle of her axe roll over her hand before she raised it up and had it flat against her arm, knees bent and legs some distance apart.

Vilkas raised his sword over his head and gave her a wolfish smirk. “Whenever you’re ready,  _Aeiron_.”

The brunette blinked at him and scowled. “Douche.”

He laughed loudly at the insult and began charging at her. She was nearly caught off guard but managed to jump out of the way just in time, swinging the blade upwards with one hand as she jumped back before gripping the handle with two hands. Time paused for a moment as Vilkas looked up, eyes widening as he saw the axe blade coming back down. Steel clashed against Titanium as the axe came down on him and sparks flew.

The two had their eyes locked for a moment before Aeiron landed on her feet and turned around, bringing the axe around her as she bent down on one knee. Vilkas stumbled backwards as the brunette raised her axe in the air. He raised his sword to block her and pushed forward. She stumbled a step or two back, arms falling to her sides as he gave a battle cry and charged at her with his blade in the air. “You’re going DOWN!”

Aeiron scoffed with a smug smirk as she ducked and weaved through his swings. “Keep dreaming, Grumpy One.” After he took another swing at her, Aeiron jumped backwards, flipping through the air and landing roughly on her feet as she skidded a good few feet away from Vilkas.

Skjor and Kodlak snickered at the comment while both Aela merely rolled her eyes with her lips tugged up ever so slightly. Vignar looked at the trio and then to Farkas, whose voice was now booming with laughter. “I never thought of calling him that before!”

He then began charging at her once more. The brunette brought up her axe and gritted her teeth, lunging forward as well.  The clash of metal could be heard as Aeiron swiftly flew past him while swinging the axe up after the blade barely grazed the stone ground. She roughly skidded to a stop once more as she turned to face him.

Her eyes took in the way his forehead was glazed in sweat and how heavily his breathing had become. Vilkas’ stance did not waver, however. He stood strong against her. Fluttering down in front of her were a few of her chocolate brown locks. After seeing them, she looked at him and frowned teasingly. Vilkas returned the gesture with giving her a teasing look, as if he was taking her down a notch little by little.

 She shook her head and giving him a disgusted look, sassing him back slightly before she jumped back at him. Vilkas raised his sword and blocked the attack, pushing her off of himself before letting his arm fall to his side and raising his blade back into the air. Aeiron kept swinging at him now, making it  _his_  turn to be the one blocking and dodging her as she swung at his sides and above her head.

 Vilkas was dodging in time, her swings barely missing him, but they were nonetheless. He then brought up his greatsword and swung down at her. Aeiron felt the adrenaline spike up once more and she spun to the side, aiming for his back with her axe.

 “It appears that Vilkas has learned Aeiron’s fighting patterns,” Kodlak turned his head to the Jarl, who merely nodded.

 The dance then ended when Aeiron landed a kick right to Vilkas’ jaw and he fell right on his back, the sword falling out of his hands. When he looked up, she was smirking darkly like he had been a few seconds ago.

Aeiron’s face softened as her eyes then wandered upward to the two people behind Vilkas who were walking around the side of Jorvaskr and approaching the patio. The man standing next to Lydia paused and stood still once he rounded the bend, smirking widely with blue sparkling eyes as he opened his arms. Vilkas turned to see the pair, recognizing the housecarl but not the Stormcloak soldier. He whirled around when he heard metal clank as the battle axe fell to the ground in front of him. Vilkas saw a Stormcloak General and the fabled “Dovahkiin” with a horrible bedhead who had slain countless dragons and defeated platoons of Imperial soldiers drop her jaw almost comically. A childish look appeared on her face and she began to jump around while inhuman noises left her mouth.

“RALOF!” The brunette almost screamed as she began running towards the Nord man, who was now laughing loudly as she hugged him and tackled him. Ralof landed and gave a mixture of groaning and laughing as the younger woman continued to hold him tightly. “H-Hi, Aeiron…”

And then jumped off of him and pulled the man up faster than he wanted to go and hopped in place a few times before hugging him again. “I missed you, deartháir!” Ralof stumbled a few feet back, but tightly hugged her back this time. Lydia sighed and shook her head.

“Really now? I had no idea,” the blond replied. Aeiron looked up at him and frowned, punching him lightly in the arm. He chuckled, before looking up at the bemused crowd sitting at Jorvaskr’s patio and to Vilkas, who was just staring with shock and an unexplainable annoyance.  The wolf was growling at him to pull Aeiron away from the stranger, and he was about to when she ran back for her axe and picked it up.

 “Looks like we’ll be continuing our match on another day, Vilkas.” She beamed at him and then trotted up the stairs, leaving him sitting on the ground gawking after her. Aeiron passed by the other Companions, the words “excuse me” and such leaving in a loud and gleeful voice until she ran back inside.

 Farkas then walked over to his brother and crouched down beside him. “Wow, Brother. You have such a way with women.” Vilkas glared at his older brother and cursed under his breath as he stood up and picked up his sword. As he sheathed it, he turned to see his brother give him a cheeky smile. “She brushed you off as if you were nothing. Am I sensing a little bit of jealousy in you, Vilkas?” Farkas raised his eyebrows a few times and earned himself a brusing punch on his arm as Vilkas stormed over by the patio and stole the loaf of bread that Torvar had in his hands before taking a large bite out of it.

 The blond Nord threw his hands up in the air. “Really…?”

* * *

 A few minutes after the three hour lunch lunch meal had come around; Aeiron came up from the living quarters in her usual apparel and had kempt hair now, along with a cleaned face. The Helgen story had been the main focus for the meal, and while everyone was listening intently, the scowling Companion glared at the Stormcloak captain and the way he would occasionally brush his hand with hers or when the two smiled at each other.

  Vilkas’ nose instantly picked up some exotic fragrance on her.  _Perfume…are you kidding me?_  His frown deepened and was his usual self for mostly everyone as he watched the general meet up with the captain and threw an arm around his shoulder as the pair disappeared around the side of Jorvaskr. Farkas, who was standing next to him, raised an eyebrow at his brother. “You know, if you keep that look on your face, it’ll stay like that?” The smarter of the two merely rolled his eyes and retreated down into his room and buried himself in one of his books.

 Ralof chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist as the continued walking down the steps. “So, you’re a member of The Companions now? I have to say that this was bound to happen eventually.” Aeiron grinned and looked down at their feet briefly before looking back up at the captain.

 “Vignar put me up to it,” she replied with a mild shrug. They both sat down at a bench in front of the Gildergreen.

 “Oh, he did now, did he?” Ralof sighed as he leaned back, breathing in the pleasantly fragranced air from the tree’s blossoming flowers. Aeiron nodded and exhaled deeply.

 “So,” she sighed, looking at the older man. “What brings you to Whiterun?”

 “Ahh,” his clasped hands waved its fingers in the air as he looked over at the nearby Talos statue and then back at the brunette. “I wanted to see how you were doing.” Ralof smiled at her as he continued. “I had no doubt that Alduin would die by your hand, but I heard you came back in pretty rough shape a month ago so I decided to drop by.”

 Aerion playfully glared at him and lightly shoved him with her elbow. “You had a month to do that.” A light laughter left her as she shook her head at him. “What took you so long?”

 At the question, Ralof pursed his lips and he tensed up, sighing deeply as gnawed lightly at his lip. The captain leaned closer to Aeiron and dropped his voice down to almost a whisper. “It’s the Thalmor.” She tensed when she felt the words against her skin. Her blood began boiling as she gave him an incredulous look. Ralof nodded to confirm what he just said. “They’ve been running patrols through Riverwood and around Whiterun ever since a month ago, almost as if they were waiting for you to come through the city gates.”

 Aeiron’s face contorted to one of disgust as she looked down at the ground, and then back up at the captain. “I could barely get here without them spotting me.”

 “What about the guards outside the city and in Riverwood?”

 “They keep coming. After we take out one patrol another one comes within a matter of days.” Ralof sighed bitterly. “The truth is that we were crippled a bit when you were recovering. Most of the Stormcloaks are too afraid to fully face them. We didn’t have you to boost our morale.”

 Aeiron licked the inside of her mouth by her lower set teeth and nodded lightly. “I see…” The brunette froze, and then smirked, clapping the older man on the shoulder before her smirk widened and she looked up at him. Ralof’s lips twitched upwards when he saw the old fire back in her eyes. “Why don’t we take care of them ourselves, Captain?”

 The man’s smirk spread across his face shortly after the words left his mouth and he nodded. “I would be honored, Stormblade, but they’ll be more of them the minute we strike back.” Aeiron then stood up and looked back at a now slightly confused captain. “We have to tell the Jarl to step up he defenses, then. Something’s gotta be done, and once it will be, we’ll have a war with the Thalmor on our hands.” To emphasize her point, she punched her palm with her other hand, clutching her hands and nodding towards Dragonsreach with a slight smirk.

 Ralof stood up and nodded. “You’re right.” He walked over to her and stood by her, looking up at the ancient castle before looking down at the younger woman. “I think it’s time to officially have you re-instated.” Aeiron smiled at him and lightly shoved him before beginning to walk ahead of him. He caught up with a few brisk steps and they climbed up the large amount of stares side by side. The sun was going down in the now golden and pink sky behind the city walls.

 The two greeted the guards outside the large doors and entered Dragonsreach. When the doors closed behind them, Brill and Vignar looked up to see the pair walking up the steps towards them. The steward straightened up from his position of whispering into the Jarl’s ear and Vignar rose from his seat. “Stormblade.”

 The tone in his voice was different from three hours ago. It was cold and unnerving for Aeiron, who was mostly used to the almost complete opposite. Chills went up her spine as she approached the fire. Wordlessly, he began walking towards the steps leading to the war room with Brill following close behind. Ralof and Aeiron shared a glance before following the Jarl and his steward.

 As they neared the top of the stairs, Hjornskar was there as usual. He looked at Aeiron and gave her his usual greeting, of which she merely nodded in reply. The taller man then sighed and handed her a bloodied note. She opened it, reading it and widening her eyes. “No…”

“Afraid so,” Vignar finally spoke, crossing his arms.

 “When was this?”

 “Two days ago.”

 “How many troops were captured?”

 “Twelve. Eight men and four women.” Aeiron looked up at the Jarl with an incredulous look, about to speak.

 “It gets better.” She looked at Brill who sighed regretfully. He then turned to look at the other Stormcloak officer. “Hjornskar.”

 Said man nodded and bent down behind the table and picked up a box. As he placed it on the table, Ralof looked away from sudden nausea and the brunette merely dropped the letter and gritted her teeth tightly. Her eyes were now an ice blue.

 Inside the box was a decapitated head of a Stormcloak Soldier. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So far so good with the updates! ^^ Let me know what you guys thought?

“Has Ulfric been informed?” Aeiron was finally able to speak up after a long silence between the five of them. Her eyes remained glued to the disembodied head, taking in the way the blood had soaked into the royal blue fabric, the way the neck bone was cleanly cut, and the way the tissue had already begun to shrivel up around some still moist flesh.

  
Hjornskar nodded and glanced away from the box to look up at the commanding officer. He pursed his lips and wet them with a mostly dry tongue from a dry mouth. “He has given orders to begin rallying up the troops and strengthen the defenses. He also said not to inform you until we absolutely had to, or until you recovered.”

 

            The brunette scowled and her voice thundered, “ _WHY?!_ ” the entire palace had gone still as her voice echoed off of the walls. Goosebumps were forming on her skin as a cold night’s air began slipping in through cracks and nooks into the old castle. Brill leaned back against the table and crossed his arms, frowning somewhat.

 

            “It was about two weeks after you came back from Sovngarde, and you were still in bad shape. The last thing we needed was one of our strongest fighters tearing a stitch or reopening something and causing more of a setback.” He chided her, almost as if she should have already known the answer. Her skin began to feel the coolness of the lowering temperature, but her veins carried boiling blood throughout her body. Everything in sight began turning a shade of red.

 

            She opened her mouth to protest. Nothing would come out, her throat locking up and pushing down the words she wanted to say. Aeiron gritted her teeth and slammed her fist onto the war table. The breath seemed to leave the gaps between her teeth in seething gasps for air as her knuckles turned white under her bear claw gauntlets.

  
            “Stormblade,” Ralof’s voice was quiet as a firm hand rested on her shoulder and gripped her tightly. She froze, her mind obtaining clarity for a brief moment. Aeiron slowly turned to look up at the captain, seeing his weak smile that was faltering on his lips. She searched his face and then looked away when her eyes began to sting. The wooden table began blurring, but Aeiron forced herself not to appear weak as she gritted her teeth and swallowed the lump in her throat.

 

            “What else has happened that I was kept out of the loop for?” The general asked in a quiet voice, each consonant dripping with venom and being strongly pronounced. Vignar sighed and cleared his voice.

 

            “Ulfric is waiting for you to go see him personally.” He replied. Aeiron picked up her head and looked at the Jarl, blinking her eyes widely at the old man. “He wants you at the front lines now and leading the first few attacks, starting with Riverwood.” Vignar then pointed down at the map a location by Lake Klinath and then looked back up at the brunette. “We’ve sent scouts out ahead to get locations to save us time for when you were able to fight again.”

 

            “That’s why you had me spar with the Companions…” the words left her mouth as the realization clicked in her mind. Vignar nodded and tapped his finger on the rough parchment.

  
            “We’ve gotten enough reports from them to confirm that they have a camp here. Some of the Thalmor have been bunking with the Imperials at their camps as well.”

  
            Aeiron brought her fist to her mouth, scanning over the area of Whiterun for a moment before pointing her index finger at a location a little ways from Rorikstead. “The Imperials have a camp here. I’ve paid them a visit a few times.” she spoke the last sentence with a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth. “New soldiers are usually stationed there every few months.”

  
            “So, if I were to send you to these two camps with a squadron of, say...twenty soldiers; would you be able to clear out the camps in a time period of over three days?” Vignar asked her while raising an eyebrow. His lips curled up in a knowing smile when he saw Aeiron move back and give him the customary salute among the Stormcloak soldiers.

 

            “Consider it done.” She turned and looked at Ralof, motioning for him to follow her. “We’ll pick up the troops at the camp by the gates before heading out. Give my regards to Kodlak and the rest of the Companions!” The brunette called over her shoulder as she walked away briskly with a trailing captain eagerly following her.

  
            As the two began walking down the steps, the smile faded from the woman’s face as she looked over at the other soldier and began running over the plans with him. “Alright, we’re going in with a stealth approach. Thalmor mages use lightning spells to drain stamina and health.”

  
            Ralof nodded at her and pointed to the bow he was carrying over his back. “I’ve been practicing while you were resting up. Let’s see who’s the better shot now, hmm?”

 

            The general laughed as she once again shoved him lightly before looking at the long bow. “You’re still using that long bow?”

 

            Ralof nodded and gave her a confused look. “Why do you ask?” 

            She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and sighed. “I know I missed your birthday a few months ago, but I still have your present at my house.”

  
            The older man raised an eyebrow with a widening grin. “Do you now?” She nodded, patting the man on the back.

 

            “I made it myself! You should be grateful! Finding Titanium these days is almost impossible in Skyrim!”Aeiron chided him lightly, stumbling somewhat due to the height difference when they began descending the stairs outside Dragonsreach into the wind district. 

            Ralof laughed loudly as he helped Aeiron keep her balance by holding her waist. She looked up at him with a nervous smile, one he grinned brightly at before turning back at the street before them as they passed by the Gildergreen.

 

 

* * *

            Lydia could here her Thane and Ralof laughing boisterously before they even reached the house from her bedroom. The woman sighed as she laid in her bed, being rudely awakened by the obnoxious laughter from the pair. The door to Breezehome opened with a _SLAM!_ and from in her room, she could hear the pair stumble and the general’s laughter growing louder.

  
Aeiron took a few steps away from him and turned to face him.“It’s right in here, but you have to close your eyes~.” She pointed to the small cabinet with a teasing smile. Ralof faked an annoyed expression  and raised his eyebrows.

  
“Really? Aren’t we too old to be acting like children?”

  
“Being young at heart is worth more than all the treasures in Sovngarde, you know.” She smiled wider and then crossed her arms impatiently. “Now. Close your eyes.”

 

The man rolled his eye but complied. He heard her open the cabin door and the echo of the wood slamming against itself as she dug through the furniture piece. Ralof chuckled when he heard her cursing under her breath and had to stifle another one when he heard the woman hiss at him for “mocking her pain”, as she would call it.

 

The cabinet door then closed and he heard her say, “Alright, you can open your eyes now!” Ralof followed the orders and slowly opened his eyes, seeing the younger woman beam brightly at him with a what at first looked like a Nordic bow. His eyes widened when he first saw the weapon, immediately wanting to hold it. “Happy Belated Birthday, Ralof.”

 

She handed it to him gently, placing it in his larger hands delicately enough as if it might break. The bow looked like a Nordic one, one that the Skaal would make on Solstheim, but the carvings, he noted, were different. “The carvings,” he began speaking.

  
“They’re Celtic.” Aeiron finished for him, smiling lightly. “The bow has an enchantment that lets it have up to 50% percent more damage on all enemies. And,” she added quickly. “A faster loading rate than most.” She reached behind her and Ralof widened his eyes more if possible when she handed him a quiver full of matching arrows. “I can make more if you need any. Steel arrows work well with the bow as well-”

 

            Ralof laughed and shouldered the bow before pulling her into a hug that threatened to crack the woman’s ribs. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to test it out in the near future.” He felt her chest rumble with laughter as she hugged him back lightly before pulling away.

 

            “I was hoping to hear that.” The general then turned to the staircase and cupped her hands around her mouth. “LYDIA! I’M OFFICIALLY DEPLOYED AGAIN! TELL THE COMPANIONS I’LL BE BACK IN A WEEK!”

  
            Lydia’s response was a groaned out “Yes, my Thane.” Smirking, Aeiron turned back to the captain and nodded to the door.

 

            “Let’s get going.” The pair then turned and left the small house.

* * *

 

            It was around five in the morning when the unit of twenty two Stormcloaks first reached the Thalmor camp in Riverwood and surrounded it from all sides, five troops a corner. Another patrol had been conveniently been passing through the small town and making its rounds when the three Elven soldiers were disposed of and their bodies dumped in the river as they crept along. A large center fire was burning ablaze, and from their position in the thicket of trees about 20 yards away, Aeiron vaguely felt the warmth of the flames.

 

           She looked to Ralof, who already had an arrow drawn, aiming at a patroling guard thirty feet away. The general put her hand up and lowered the man's bow. The captain looked at her strangely for a second until he recognized the look on her face, one of pure evil as she wore that impish smirk and her eyes turned an ice blue. Lightly, she tosses the grenade in her hand and lets it fall perfectly into the palm of her hand, then flicking off the safety with her thumb.

  
          She sends it hurtling towards the camp with a low grunt. When it impacted the ground, it rolled a little, right by a guard's foot that was standing by the fire. They looked down and their eyes widened a second later. Right when the Elf's mouth opens, the grenade went off. Aeiron was the first to unsheathe her weapon and hop over the log that was hiding her group and dive head first into the infested camp. Ralof smirks and fires the arrow he'd been itching to release at a soldier charging forward.

 

          It all comes down to movement as the soldiers take on the Elves. Aeiron swings the axe around her and slices one wizard down when they try using a lightning spell on her. Another adorning the gilded armor comes charging at her with their sword drawn and high in the air. The axe moves instinctively to block the attack before the general brings her foot up to kick the enemy soldier in the jaw and spins her body around with the axe following. The Titanium metal servers flesh and bone as a head falls to the ground and rolls away.

  
        Arrows fly around and zip right past her, some whizzing by Aeiron's head as she carries out her dance to the drums pounding in her head. It's the rhythm that she goes by, a fast and steady beat that keeps her blood pumping. It seeps into her mouth and the taste of copper lingers on her tongue.

 

_"Ní hé seo an méid a bhí mé..."_

 

Another Thalmor tries to cut her down. She dodges, shifts to the side while letting her back face their side. The axe swings up in her right arm and the blade cuts cleanly through the armor and the flesh below it. The general kicks the corpse off of her weapon and immediately dodges once more as lightning passes her by. The hairs of the exposed skin of her thigh stand up. She looks down, then up again. In the blink of an eye, the wizard immediately begins to fall down with his leg being cut off from right underneath him. The axe is over her head and then comes down.

 

" _Mé riamh ag iarraidh a throid amháin..."_

 

Battle is always a blur of movement and action; Kill of be killed. No one rests except the dead. The movements come to her, she doesn't call on them. Aeiron never had to. She just feels her way through and navigates the mazes of bloodied corpses and saturated earth beneath her feet. And slowly, life comes back into motion and everything speeds up once more.

  
"They're all dead over here!" one troop calls out. Aeiron turns her head and a smile crawls onto her face as she sighs in content.

  
"Good work, men." The axe is sheathed slowly as it returns to the home that is always on her back.

 

Ralof approaches her, whistles at her handy work before slinging the bow over his shoulder. “You sure know how to make an entrance, Lass.”

  
Wearily, she sighs and looks down at the corpses. “I try to please,” she speaks, with her voice turning into a whisper at the end of the phrase. Aeiron then looks up and begins walking, stepping on corpses and severed limbs along the way as she heads towards the main tent of the encampment.

Scattered parchment and a dim candle with a recently inked quill caught the general’s eye as she made her way to the table in the middle of the tent. Ralof went and scavenged through the chests.

            “Nothing in here that’s worth wile,” the captain states as he slams the trunk shut and stands up with a grunt. Ralof’s eyes turn to the brunette that was leaning over the maps and the papers. He makes his way over to her. “You find anything?” His question receives no immediate response, but that’s something he’s grown accustomed to as he stands behind her and looks over her shoulder at what his superior is studying.

He then notices her body visibly stiffen, as if she had been poisoned by a frostbite spider. “Ralof…” the man picks up the stiffness of his name as it falls from her lips, and he knows right away it can’t be good.

It’s foolish; she’ll tell him anyway, but he can’t help but to ask. “…What is it?”

Aeiron slowly leans back, holding up a thin and weathered piece of parchment, the ink faded and smudged. He leans over her and looks. The words come screaming across to him from the paper. Ralof looks at her and sees the stressed look that the general is wearing as she looks back at the other pieces of paper. He looks at the paper again and begins reading aloud to himself.

“So far, no sightings of the Dragonborn. It is believed that she is held up in Whiterun and is currently recovering from her latest endeavor. Extracting her there is futile; the city will throw themselves in the way before we get to her…”

The older man scoffs and looks back at her. “Looks like you have quite the fan club.” Aeiron turns to him and straightens up. A few bones in her back crack quite loudly.

“You can say that again.” The general sighs and straightens up, looking down at the clutter once more. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

She sighed heavily once more and gestured to the cluttered table top. “…This! There’s nothing here. As if they were expecting us…”

“General!”

The pair both turned their heads to see one of the other soldiers running towards them with a piece of parchment in their hand. The Stormcloak pauses in front of them and catches his breath before handing Aeiron the piece of paper. “I found this on one of the Thalmor Wizards. It looks like something you need to see.”

Aeiron took the paper without hesitation and opened it, eyes sifting through the contents. The other two both saw her stiffen once more. “Alright, thank you, Soldier…”

He nodded and then walked away. The general then crumpled up the note and threw it away. Ralof blinked at her a few times, apparently confused. “What is it?”

She turned to look at him and scoffed before blowing the air out of her lungs. “The Thalmor have recently deployed more troops at the camps and embassy. Now there’s more of them!”

“Well, I think if we keep up what happened tonight, I think Skyrim will be in good shape.” Ralof smirked at her and gave a small chuckle.

The general turned to look at him, the anger leaving her face before the mild frustration once more set in. Another heavy breath left her as she drummed her fingers on the table. “The Empire also sent in new troops. A man going by ‘General Taitus’ will be leading them this time around.”

“I bet Ulfric knows already.”

“Probably.” She looked up and saw the sun rising over the distant horizon. “Come on,” she sighed, exiting the tent. “We still have the Imperials to deal with.”

Ralof scoffed. “Fun sort they are.” At the comment, Aeiron laughed and threw her head back.

“I wonder,” she turned to face him, a smirk on her lips while her hands were on her waist. “Who will have the bigger tally this time around?”

As she turned to walk away, Ralof raised an eyebrow and caught up with her after a few quick steps, now walking side by side with her. The Stormcloaks then rested up for a few hours before heading out.

Zero casualties.

Two wounded.

So far so good. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, finally, back to the Companions! :D Let me know what you guys thought of the chapter? ^^

**I made a new banner for the story! ^^[x](http://img713.imageshack.us/img713/2874/lr6k.png)**

            The Stormcloak brigade traveled along the main road for about two or three hours, the sun gradually rising higher in the sky above them.  It was around noon when they deviated and began crossing the plains to the side of the giant city, sneaking past the giant camp and swiftly taking down any sabre cats that were attacking them.

            The two wounded soldiers had been patched up and were back in fighting shape in a brief amount of time. They eagerly followed Stormbade as she led the way, telling one group to watch the back while they crossed over the hilly terrain. Short and light conversation came up every once in a  while when one soldier made a witty remark or such.

            One o'clock came around and the Imperial camp was beginning to show itself on the horizon, a small fire burning in the middle and a blacksmith hammered away on an anvil while nearby guards patrolled the immediate area. The guards were more spread out, being as far away as fifty yards from home base. Aeiron quickly ruled out the use of another grenade to rile them up.

            She looked to her second in command, nodding to him and then pointing at several soldiers and pointing to the far off right. The five nodded and began to quickly make their way to one side of the area with little to no noise being given off. Aeiron then counted another five and sent them to the left. Looking at Ralof, she paused, an idea appearing before she resumed her counting. He was grouped in the next set of five and the general made a u-turn gesture with her hand.

            The captain nodded and turned to his small unit, studying them for a moment before he began creeping along the right. Aeiron was left with five Stormcloaks now, one woman and four men. "Alright guys," she sighed, unsheathing the dagger that she kept at her thigh and crouched down. "I'll be taking out the patrolling guards." She crept a step forward before turning around to look at them once more. "Hide behind the rocks and wait for my signal to come out and start  charging towards the camp." Raising a finger, she pointed at one of the male soldiers. "Thoren, you're in charge for now."

He blinked at her, but nodded at her. "Aye, General."

            Aeiron smirked, winking at them before continuing on. She began rolling out over the flat parts and hud behind another pile of rocks when one Imperial soldier began heading her way. A word aligned itself in the dark in her mind. Bright letters in the dov language burned brightly in the darkness. "Las," the word left her mind and traveled out through her mouth. Darkness, then the constant sunlight came back. The red glowed brightly. She saw three clusters surrounding the camp and a few separate specters standing alone. One of them paused right by the rock pile that Aeiron was hiding behind and then turned around.

            A smirk appeared on her lips as she watched the red light in front of her begin to walk away and then vanish. She crept out from behind the rocks and quietly moved in closer on the prey with silent movements. When she was a foot away, the general popped up and pulled the enemy soldier down to the ground with her. The dagger embedded itself in the man's throat as he squirmed and then went limp and pliable. Aeiron pulled out the knife before carrying on.

            There were about four more patrolling guards in the area by the camp, and they all went down without much struggle. The general sighed and pulled back after slicing the last one's throat cleanly. She looked down at the ground and wiped the blood off in the grass before looking up and noting how close she was to the camp. About twenty five steps walking upright would place her by the very last tent. She noted how everyone was acting in the camp, how some soldiers were carrying on casually, how the blacksmith was working on forging new weapons for them, and then there was the  Legate who was studying the map on a table.

            A courier then approached him, saluting the commanding officer before handing a piece of paper. The man took it and then dismissed the messenger. She watched as he opened the paper with her acutely trained eyes. The look on the man's mask told her he was taken aback by whatever was on the message. "Soldiers!" He shouted now. The calm over the hills was disrupted. "Be on the lookout for any Stormcloaks! They just wiped out the Thalmor camp by Riverwood!"

A Thalmor mage then got up by his seat beside the Legate and snatched the paper from the Imperial, eyeing it before tossing it to the side. "I highly doubt a bunch of half wit Nords could pull of a stunt like that. The Dragonborn is still in-"

            "The Dragonborn was seen leaving Whiterun almost a day ago with about twenty or so Stormcloaks in tow." The Legate countered with a heightened tone of voice.

Silence.

            Aeiron smirked once more and began reaching for her bow. She slowly drew an explosive arrow out of the quiver on her back and lined it in her sights. The chuckle that escaped her couldn’t be suppressed when Aeiron saw the color leave the High Elf’s face. “W-What?”

            “I’m afraid so…”

            She let the breath in her lungs leave her and then come back just as easily. “What should we do?” the Justicar turned to the Legate. Half a breath left the general before she let go of the arrow, aiming for the High Elf’s throat. When his head exploded cleanly off of his neck as the arrow lodged itself in his neck, the Legate stood there stunned as the Imperial watched the corpse fall back into the tent.

 

            Aeiron meanwhile, was loading another arrow as the Legate turned to scan the nearby area. By the time his eyes widened when seeing the Stormcloak general, she released the second arrow. When the second man fell dead, she stood up and whistled loudly. The Stormcloaks began moving in on the camp within a few seconds.

            “STORMCLOAKS!” One Thalmor agent shouted. It did her no good, however, as Aeiron’s axe blade wound up digging through her back in the next instant. The general kicked the corpse off of her weapon before moving on to her next victim. She never got tired of the dancing; she never felt a thing. All movement was on auto-pilot.

            The switch seemed to flip off when Aeiron turned to see an Elf swing their sword down on Ralof’s back. The captain fell to the ground. The general _froze_. The dance stopped. “RALOF!”

* * *

 

            “What time did she leave?” Kodlak raised an eyebrow at the Housecarl. Lydia sighed as she leaned against one of the support columns by the patio while crossing her arms.

            “Around midnight.” The woman answered with a shrug. “She told me she would be gone for about a week.” Her eyes hung heavy as she tried to remain awake. Her Thane had been ever so obnoxious with her cynical laughter as usual. It was a wonder she could fall asleep again…

            “Did she say what business?” The Harbinger asked.

            “I had a job for her.” The two turned their heads to see Vignar walking up the steps alongside the old mead hall. “It was an emergency, I assure you.” the Jarl sighed and put his hands on his hips as he looked down at his friend. “Once she comes back from her errand, I’m sure she’ll want to do any jobs you have for her.”

            Kodlak nodded wordlessly and picked up his tankard of ale before taking a large sip. After slowly setting down the metal cup, he looked up at the Gray-Mane once more. “ _Where_ , exactly did you send her off to?”

            Vignar sighed with hesitation. “I can’t say at the moment. Top-secret. Rest assured, you’ll be the first to know once the situation has been dealt with.”

            “You mean the issue with the Thalmor patrols passing by Whiterun for nearly a month now?” Kodlak raised an eyebrow at the older man. The doors opened in back of him and Skjor and Aela came outside, closing the doors softly behind them.

            “Harbinger.”

            “What is it, Skjor?”

            The one-eyed man sighed. “A message for you.” He handed Kodlak a small slip of paper. “They wouldn’t say who they were, but that it was in the utmost importance that you got this.”

            Frowning, he took the paper and then nodded up at the other Companion. “Thank you, Skjor.” While he began opening it, Aela and Skjor slipped inside as quietly as they had come out. Kodlak’s eyes slowly rolled over the paper as he read the neat handwriting on the parchment. With a sigh, he folded the paper and then handed it to Lydia. “This has something to do with Aeiron.”

            She took the paper without much hesitation and read it herself. “You’re kidding me!”

            The Jarl raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

            “I…I don’t know…Some sort of cryptic code…” Lydia showed the parchment to the Jarl. Vignar’s eyes widened and his breath hitched.

            “Those markings are Celtic…”

            “But,” Kodlak spoke up. “I thought the Thalmor wiped out the Celts.” The other old man chuckled and shook his head at the Harbinger.

            “Kodlak, these are Aeiron’s ancestors we’re talking about! The Thalmor could only _hope_ to wipe out the Celts!”

            “Forgive me, but who _exactly_ are they?” Lydia spoke up with a puzzled expression.

            “The Celts, Lydia, are a group of mostly Nord tribesmen residing in northern-Cyrodiil, southern-Skyrim. They have little Elven blood in them, but that’s what makes them different from everyone else. They may look like Nords, but they’re slightly shorter than the norm. Their mixed blood also makes them more advanced in fighting.”

            The Housecarl blinked and nodded quietly. Vignar looked at the paper once more and pointed to one of the symbols. “That’s the Celtic symbol for “lion”. Look familiar?”

            Lydia and Kodlak looked at the featured symbol and stared at it. The Housecarl then remembered where she had seen it before. “That’s the symbol on Aeiron’s battle axe!”

            The Jarl nodded with a dry smile. “They’re nomadic for the most part, but they tend to live in elevated areas. Not many of them are left, but the ones that are usually have an animal of some sort to represent themselves. Phil used horse to represent himself. Aeiron apparently was chosen as a lion.”

            By now, some of the other Companions had been quietly coming out onto the patio for lunch and training and had been listening in, including Skjor, Aela, and the twins. Vilkas overheard the last part and raised an eyebrow. “How come there are no books on these “Celts?” he couldn’t help but to ask with a skeptical brow.

 

            Vignar looked up at him and shrugged. “I only know so much as Aeiron and her father have told me.”

* * *

 

            Aeiron grunted with the weight as she walked Ralof along the road, his arm slung around her shoulders as she held him up with trembling arms and legs and staggering breath. Whiterun gates were slowly coming into view, thankfully. The rest of the battalion stayed at the conquered Imperial camp and rummaged through everything while the general carried her second in command all the way to the nearest city. “We’re gonna make it, Ralof. We’re gonna make it…”

            The two were passing by the stables and Aeiron stumbled somewhat when tripping over a stray rock. “Aeiron…” the older man groaned through gritted teeth. She treated the wound to the best of her ability, closing it with a hot knife and wrapping it up; but he needed to see a healer, and fast. Ralof only heard her heavy breathing in response as he felt the smaller woman tremble beneath his weight.

            “Hang on, Ralof. We’re almost…” She exhaled heavily, as if almost out of breath. “ _There_.” They passed over the draw bridge and began rounding the turn that lead up to the small slope of a path towards the large gates. “GUARDS! OPEN THE GATES!”

            The guards standing by the gates stiffened and then scampered to open the gates when they saw the general carrying the man on her back. The doors slowly opened before the brunette as she paused at the opening, body shaking with limbs that felt like jelly. As she began stumbling into the city, the general pointed to the nearest city guard. “You! Get a healer from the temple! HURRY!”

            The Stormcloak nodded and ran up the stairs to her left as she continued onward, passing by Adrianne and Breezehome. “It’s alright, Ralof.” She muttered under her breath more to herself than to the half-conscious captain who weakly nodded in reply. “We’re gonna get you a healer. You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

            His hand gripped her shoulder with a small ounce of whatever strength he could muster as he looked up to her contorted face as she struggled about. Her ears blocked out the gasps and whispers that the people in the market place gave off when she passed by. The city guard standing by Belethor’s shop rushed over to them. “Stormblade!”

            “Go get the Jarl!” She ordered over her shoulder. The guard nodded and ran past them up the steps. Aeiron slowly began walking herself and the barely-conscious captain up the steps to the wind district. “HEALER! WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS A HEALER?!”

            The party sitting outside on Jorvaskr’s patio froze at the voice. Lydia immediately stood up and ran around the building. “Aeiron!” Vignar immediately followed while Kodlak sighed heavily. Farkas stood up and began running when his brother raised an eyebrow at him.

            “Where do you think you’re going, Brother?”

            The stronger of the two men turned to face the smarter of the two. “Aeiron’s back. She might need help.” Vilkas’ scowl immediately vanished as he silently followed his brother to the front of the mead hall. He froze when he saw the Stormcloak general dragging the other man towards the Gildergreen, hunched over to the point of where she looked like she would fall over at any second now.

            A healer from the Temple of Kynerath followed one of the city guards as they took the wounded soldier off of the general’s back. Aeiron straightened herself as she watched them carry the captain off into the shrine with heavy breath and slits for eyes. Her knees knocked underneath her and finally gave as she tried to walk forward. Vilkas then saw the Housecarl immediately run towards her. “My Thane!”

            The general brushed her off, waving at Lydia with a dismissive hand. “I’m fine…” She tried to stand up again but her legs gave once more. Vilkas rolled his eyes and pushed past his brother and Aela, briskly walking over the small bridge to the Gildergreen and then stopping in front of the general. “Get up.” He spoke.

            Aeiron scowled up at him, her slits for eyes turning an ice blue color from their weakening blue-gray. Her hands pushed off of the ground as he legs tried to support her weight for the third time. She still couldn’t get up. The general then fell flat on her stomach this time, still trying to get up off of the ground.

            His hand grabbed her arm and then Vilkas pulled her up, one arm wrapping around her knees while the other supported her back. Aeiron’s eyes were closing on their own, but she felt cold armor against the skin of face and limbs and then felt the vibration of footsteps as if someone was walking, followed by the loud noises that the armor gave off as he moved. She let herself relax at the familiar feeling of being carried like the way she currently was, only it was a long time ago and her father’s arms held her more securely.  

             Farkas watched as his brother carried the newest Companion up the steps and then pass him by as he kicked open the front doors and walked inside Jorvaskr. The brother smirked and looked up at a worried Lydia before walking inside and sitting down at the table.

            “I’m sure Aeiron will be fine, Lydia.” He turned to look at the woman with a reassuring smile. Lydia sighed and hesitantly nodded.

            “I suppose so…”

 

            Farkas then got up, holding two bottles of ale. He walked over to the Housecarl and handed her one before opening his bottle and taking a long swig of the alcohol.

            Vilkas, meanwhile, walked down the steps to the downstairs area slowly. Aeiron was already sleeping soundly in his arms by the time he reached the flight of stairs. He glanced down at her as he carried her into the Whelps’ quarters. The Companion paused, searching the room before spotting her bed towards the right end of the room. He slowly made his way over and delicately set her down on the bed before taking off her axe and setting it against the wall while holding her up with one hand.

            After that, he guided her back onto the bed, picking up her legs and aligning her body as well as he could. Vilkas finally got a good look at her face; blood stained and clearly worn out. He couldn’t help but think how delicate she looked lying on the spare bed. The man shook his head, sighing lightly before leaving the room as quietly as he could and then heading back upstairs. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for another update! Let me know what you guys thought? ^^ (Sorry for any OOC...)

Warmth was the first thing that greeted Aeiron as she stirred from her dreamless sleep. Her body ached all over in the usual places, and then in other areas she hadn't felt it in a while. The Imperial camp had been more of a challenge then she had first assessed. No one died on her watch, however. The general walked away with that satisfaction.

She felt a person sitting at the edge of her bed by her legs and slowly opened her eyes. "How are you feeling?" Aela greeted the brunette with a small smile. The general sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"Better, I guess…" Aeiron looked around the Whelps' quarters and saw everyone else sleeping in some of the vacant beds. "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight." The Huntress answered her in a low voice before bending over and picking up a bottle off of the floor. She handed the health potion to the brunette. "Here," she said. "You'll feel better after drinking this."

Aeiron automatically recognized the red-ish bottle and took it slowly from the Companion. "Thanks," she let the words out in a hoarse sigh as she took the cork out with her teeth while sitting up on the bed. After spitting out the cork, Aeiron began downing to the bitter potion without much hesitation.

"You've been out for most of the day," Aela finally spoke up again. The general ended her rabid drinking and gasped for air. She wiped her mouth with the side of her hand and looked up at the Huntress.

"So I've gathered." The general commented before taking a more relaxed gulp of the potion, already feeling the effects taking place on her body.

"You caused quite a stir earlier today at the Gildergreen." The older woman's smile widened a bit when she saw Aeiron freeze and look up at the redhead. "Mind telling me what that was all about?"

Sighing, Aeiron leaned back on the wall, staring at the woman apprehensively for a good moment while pursing her lips. She looked away, and then back at Aela before finally caving in. "Raid on the Imperial camp outside of Whiterun."

The Huntress nodded and shifted to face the general more. "Camp raid?"

"Vignar sent me on a little "errand." The brunette emphasized with air quotes. "Take care of the Thalmor-infested camps in Riverwood and outside of Whiterun and as fast as possible."

"But you just fully healed recently-"

"Men were  _dying_ , Aela." Aeiron snapped, glaring the woman in the eye. "They  _hid_  it from me because they  _knew_  I would run out the gates and tear them apart the minute that I found out." The brunette paused for a moment when she felt her eyes beginning to sting. She looked down at her lap and bit her lip, playing with the empty bottle in her hands. "I owed them, Aela." Her chest heaved with a heavy sigh and some of the guilt went away. "I owed them for my time off. I should've been there for them."

Aela pursed her lips before letting a hand rest on the younger woman's shoulder. "You did well, Aeiron. You extracted revenge  _exactly_ as they would've wanted it. You have  _nothing_  to be ashamed of."

The brunette looked up at her with a tired smirk. "You think so, huh?"

She nodded. Aeiron laughed dryly before nodding. The Huntress patted the general's soldier before standing up. "Get some rest," she said in a more confident voice. "You'll need it for tomorrow. Kodlak has a job for you." The younger woman nodded and sat up slowly, grunting as she moved. Aela looked over her shoulder at her one last time before leaving the room with a smile.

Aeiron was left to her own thoughts as her thumb rubbed against the bottle when her thoughts began coming back to her. Her eyes wandered around the room, seeing Athis and Tovar sleeping nearby her, and then Ria and Njada by the other end of the room. She then looked over and studied the flickering flame on the candle, watched it dance in the chilly air that hit her exposed skin after moving the furs off of her. The brunette sighed and slowly stood up, groaning lowly when she still felt her sore and tired muscles.

She yawned loudly and stretched her arms over her head as she walked up the stairs leading to the mead hall. It was empty with food cluttered all over the table as usual after dinner. Aeiron walked along the edge of the table, letting her gloved hands run along its worn surface as the flames from the pit made her skin glow as she passed them. Its warmth was welcoming for the brunette, despite the cold night air that somehow always made it inside on nights like this one. A memory then came to her and Aeiron widened her eyes before smiling childishly and laughing lightly.

The same sense of normalcy came over her as if she were seven years back in the past at Lakeview Manor, watching and waiting for her father to whip them up something to eat since she burned everything she touched in a kitchen or over a pot. Closing her eyes, she could smell spaghetti and a loaf of freshly baked bread. The sauce's scent was as thick as he usually made it; rich with meat from that day's hunting trip.

Aeiron would walk around the table just like she was now at seven, eighteen, running her fingertips along the grains of the wood; it became a pleasant habit she did not want to get rid of any time soon. The door opened and she would turn her head from the end of the table where she always wound up when her father came out of the kitchen and brought over their dinner on a large tray. He would raise his eyebrows playfully at her and say "Alright, Scutch, it's on the table." Without fail, she would return the teasing remark with a wide grin and brightened eyes.

The doors to the mead hall slammed open and Aeiron froze where she was, standing in front of the fire pit. She whirled around, seeing a rugged and disheveled Vilkas coming in from the training yard. He immediately froze, standing in the doorway like a startled deer. She was the first to break the silence, laughing nervously and leaning against the table as casually as she possibly could. "Vilkas! What a surprise! Didn't expect you up at this hour…"

The man simply raised an eyebrow at her statement, staring at her as he closed the door behind him without turning away from her. "I could say the same for you, Stormblade."

She raised an eyebrow in response, a smirk at the corner of her mouth in the blink of an eye. "Really?" Her smirk widened as she leaned back further on the table, sighing lightly. "This seems to be Deja vu for me. I distinctly remember you and I having a conversation along the lines of a previous one, maybe?" Aeiron shrugged and pushed herself up to sit on the long table, legs swinging back and forth slowly as she gave him an awaiting look.

Vilkas couldn't suppress the loud yawn that opened his mouth wide and traveled across the room. The brunette pursed her lips to fight back the smile that threatened to spread at the sight of the grumpy Companion's face. "It's too late for this. Goodnight." He slumped his shoulders forward and waved her off with a hand as he made his ways towards the stairs with heavy footsteps.

Aeiron blinked at him stunned and her legs stopped swinging. "Hey! Wait a minute!" she hopped off of the table with a thud and jogged up the small set of steps by the training yard doors before briskly walking after him. Slowly, he turned to face her, annoyance clearly on his face that only he could wear so well and get away with it. Strangely enough, it suited him to look grumpy more so than not.

She slowed down in front of him, exhaling deeply. "I never got the chance to thank you." Vilkas blinked at her, turning so he faced her completely. The general's throat suddenly went dry as she tried to speak up. His eyes kept studying her, almost as if he was intent on hearing what she had to say. "For carrying me in."

The Companion blinked at her some more before sighing. His mouth threatened to rise up at the corners, but he was too tired for  _trivial_  stuff. "Next time, ask someone to help you." Vilkas turned away and began heading down the stairs when he felt his arm being pulled back gently. Vilkas sighed sighed and stared up for a moment before he turned around again, seeing the gentle look on her face. Whatever snarky remark he was planning on saying, he fed it to the wolf inside him that never seemed to rest and watch the beast devour it brutally.

"You're dragging your feet and can barely walk right. Let me walk you to your room, at least." Aeiron's bitter sense of humor had seemed to have teleported to a plane of Oblivion at that moment. As hard as he looked, Vilkas couldn't find any reason to argue with her...except for his  _pride_. When he tried to pull away, Aeiron held on tighter, her lips thinning out as her eyebrows narrowed ever so slightly.

He watched her, saw the flames dancing in her eyes from the nearby hearth that showed nothing but kindness at the moment. The brunette didn't wait for an answer as she walked past him, still holding onto his arm as she opened the door and pulled him along gently. Vilkas couldn't comprehend the reason exactly that his feet were moving and following her obediently as they were as he matched the slow pace she was walking at.

Their footsteps echoed off of the walls in the stone hallway as they walked along the carpeted floor. Aeiron finally let go of his arm when they passed the Whelps' quarters. She was quiet; a small smile on her face as she glanced up at the Companion. Vilkas was determined to keep his eyes straight ahead as they walked. "My room is over here." He finally spoke up after the long minute of silence. She nodded quietly and followed him to the door and watched him walk inside.

Aeiron's eyes immediately took in the amount of scattered books and other miscellaneous things that were on any clear space on the pieces of furniture. "Oh, wow…!" She immediately brushed past him and walked over to the bookcase that held most of the Companion's collection of literature. Vilkas seemed to wake up mostly at that moment as he watched her pick up a copy of  _The Falmer: A Study_  and began sifting through the pages as he eyes took in the familiar content. "I read this once upon a time ago…"

Vilkas had to scoff lightly as he plopped down on his bed and began removing his armor. "I don't believe the Falmer will try to mount a surface assault. They would be far too outnumbered." The man grunted as he pulled off one of his boots. He raised his foot to grab the other one. "Blackreach probably doesn't even exist as well…"

It was the woman's turn to scoff lightly. Aeiron turned to look at him over her shoulder and gently closed the book with one hand on the seam. "Blackreach exists, my friend." She turned to walk over to him and sit on his bed. "I've been there. I should know."

After he finished getting his other shoe off of his foot, Vilkas turned and stared at the brunette who now sat next to him. "You've been to Blackreach?"

Aeiron nodded and then yawned lightly, rubbing her eyes with a sleepy smile. "It's nice there, with the exception of the Falmer, trolls, that one giant down there, and the chorus that are  _everywhere_  down there." She groaned dramatically and flopped down on her back, sighing lightly as she stared up at the ceiling. Aeiron then turned to look at the man sitting next to her. "Have you ever been down there?"

Vilkas sighed and tiredly shook his head. "I never knew it existed...what  _were_  you doing in Blackreach anyways?" He raised an eyebrow at her, almost angrily. She had to giggle lightly from the look on his face at that particular moment.

"I had to get an Elder Scroll from down there. Went there by myself to get it."

At this point, Vilkas' jaw was about to drop from his face as he tried to form coherent thoughts. "A-An  _Elder_  scroll…"

She nodded at him and smiled tiredly before sitting up. "If you heard half of the shit I've done just to get something or to complete a mission, I wouldn't be surprised if you thought I was touched in the head." Aeiron smirked dryly at him before standing up. She looked back at him, seeing Vilkas returning a look of awe as he looked up at her. His armor was still on his body, now completely forgotten.

Aeiron realized that he was still wearing his armor and knocked on it lightly, laughing quietly. "You might want to take that off before you hit the hay." The brunette was at the open doorway when she heard the man's voice quietly speak up.

"Wait." Slowly, she turned around, forgetting about sleep for just a moment longer. "What else have you read?"

A tired smile appeared on her face before she jabbed a thumb towards the cluttered bookcase. "Basically all of the ones on that bookcase over there. I recognized most of the titles that I saw while looking through them." Her hand fell back at her side and Aeiron's eyes seemed to turn into little slits. Another yawn came out of her mouth as she raised a hand to cover it. "G'Night, Grumpy."

Vilkas stared after her for a moment until the door closed behind her quietly. His mind was reeling at the thought of someone else around here having a thirst for knowledge besides Kodlak and himself. He absent-mindedly took off the rest of his armor and piled it on the chest by the foot of his bed. The Companion picked up the book that Aeiron had been looking through earlier, fingers going over the leather and parchment as if he had just received the book.

He eyed the door again, tiredly blinking his eyes before he sat down on the bed and placed the book on the nightstand at his bedside and blew out the only lit candle. His wolf wasn't going to let him sleep any time soon as it roared for more blood that was well overdue, howling for... _her_. Vilkas slammed his eyes shut and tried to clear his intoxicated head. Her scent had drugged the wolf and now made him addicted. And out of all of the women in Skyrim, it finally picked its mate.

The one who was the fabled Dragonborn and a ruthless Stormcloak general that seemed to be the ideal Nord woman, short of her persistence and well,  _short_  stature. Aeiron only came up to his jaw, the tip of his nose at most. And surprisingly, he didn't  _hate_  her.

Vilkas was just, for once, utterly confused.

* * *

 The next morning, Aeiron woke up around nine in the morning by herself in the Whelps' quarters. After downing her armor, fixing herself up and chugging a jug of chocolate milk, she made her way upstairs.

"Look who's awake!" Farkas was the first one to greet her, clapping her on the back and shaking the general's hand firmly.

"Gee, what the hell did I do to receive a warm reception?"

The bigger man rolled his eyes and showed her to her seat next to himself and another empty seat at the mead hall long table. After looking around for a bit, Aeiron raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Farkas, who was ripping off some venison with his mouth. "Where's you're grump of a brother?"

"Still sleeping like the dead, probably." Aela answered as she took a sip from a bottle of ale. Aeiron eyed the older woman for a moment before speaking up again.

"And you  _let_  him?"

Aela shrugged. "My brother being woken up in the morning is like fighting a troll with a dagger. You're gonna lose either way," Farkas answered the brunette's silent question.

Aeiron looked over at Kodlak, who simply shrugged lightly. He paused, and then chuckled. "Aeiron," he began. She raised her eyebrow at the Harbinger. "If you can get Vilkas out of bed without getting yourself killed, I'll pay you one hundred gold."

"Hmm," she thought it over for a minute. "Two hundred and you got yourself a deal!" Aeiron shook the man's open hand and then got up and ran down the stairs into the living quarters.

After a silent second, money started changing hands over the long table. "Five septems on Aeiron."

"Fifteen on Vilkas."

"Let's double that, shall we?" Athis and Torvar were glaring at each other when shouting could be heard from the other side of the door.

"WOMAN! WHAT THE HELL?!" They could all hear Vilkas roaring like a savage beast at the brunette.

"Kodlak wants you up! Now. GET.  ** _UP_**!" The whole mead hall shook at the last word. Old dust and debris crumbled from the rafters above as the building settled once more. The door to the living quarters abruptly opened and Vilkas was roughly thrown up the stairs to the eating area.

Athis smirked as the Nord sitting next to him glared at him and handed him thirty septems. Aeiron walked up the stairs, scowling at the Companion as she passed him and dusted off her hands by clapping them together, paired with a loud "HMMPH!" as she walked back to where she was sitting and resumed her breakfast. Glaring at the brunette, Vilkas got up and sat down next to her, trying to ignore the smirk on his brother's face.

Skjor and Kodlak shared a glance before the Harbinger raised his eyebrows and continued his meal. The other man smirked wickedly and eyed the brunette before doing the same. Aeiron was fitting just  _fine_.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the somewhat late update! I've been busy and still am and I hit a bit of a block up until tonight with the story...So forgive me? ^^ Any feedback would be AMAZING!

                “How is he?” Aeiron looked up at the priestess after she greeted her when the general entered the temple after breakfast.

                Danica pursed her lips at the general’s quiet question, looking over at the unconscious Ralof that was resting up on one of the beds in the temple. “He’s fine, for now.” She sighed after a moment and looked back at the shorter woman’s detached look. “Your captain got cut up pretty bad. It’ll be a while before he goes charging back into battle.”

                Aeiron nodded before looking down at the ground. Running water and quiet groans of pain filled the heavy air in the temple as the pause between them dragged out. The general finally looked up at Danica and her mask chipped slightly. “Can I see him?”

                The woman smiled wearily before gesturing to the injured man. “Go right on ahead. He’s well enough to talk.” The brunette smiled appreciatively before walking past the priestess and over to the unconscious blond.

                She paused in front of the bed, looking down at Ralof’s tired and worn down face as his chest rose and fell at a steady rate. The woman licked her dry lips and gnawed at her lower one as she watched him, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. Aeiron finally knelt down beside her comrade and rested a hand on the man’s forehead. “Captain…”

                His eyes twitched at her whisper. Aeiron brushed his hair back and placed her hand back on his forehead. “Ralof…hi.” She smiled nervously with a slightly louder voice. The captain began stirring on the bed as his eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the sunlight coming into the temple.

                “…Aeiron.”

                Aeiron let her shoulders drop as she smirked uncontrollably. “Good to see you’re still with the living.”

                Ralof tried to sit up, visibly stiffening up and gritting his teeth while groaning when a searing and sharp pain interrupted him about a quarter of the way up. Both of Aeiron’s hands went to his shoulders as the brunette forced him down onto the bed. “Easy now. Danica said no sudden movements.”

                “Dammit.” The captain reluctantly lied back down and looked up at the general, offing her a weak smile for his lack of ability. He sighed heavily before speaking. “I owe you, Stormblade. If it weren’t for you, my ass would have been handed to me by one of those damned Elves.”

                She rolled her eyes in response. “Just goes to show that I can’t take you anywhere without having to worry about you, now can I?” Aeiron raised a teasing eyebrow at him, but Ralof closed his eyes and the beam on his face faded away.

                “You had to carry me back to Whiterun...You were, stumbling and struggling to hold me up…but you _did._ ” His hand rose to grasp one of hers that were holding onto the side of the bed. “I…I don’t know what I would do without you, Stormblade.”

                Aeiron stared at him with slowly widening eyes as she processed his words. A dry swallow made her throat feel even drier as he stared at her with his tired azure eyes. She sighed, and then chuckled before raising her other hand to pat his gently. “A lot of people have said the same thing to me, Captain. And I always say the same thing. ‘I do what I can.’” She felt his grip on her hand tighten when she rose to get up, but Ralof didn’t protest. “I’ll be back tomorrow with some mead and a deck of cards for you.” She grinned at the captain before walking over to one of the other beds and striking up conversation with one of the other wounded Stormcloaks.

                Ralof propped himself up to watch her as much as his body would allow himself, watching her for a good minute before grunting and letting himself flop back onto the bed. He didn’t care that he felt the same annoying stinging in his back when his back collided with the stone as he eyed the ceiling. And when he heard her leave, his heart twisted a bit.

                When he heard approaching footsteps, the captain looked up to see Acolyte smiling down at him warmly. “Good to see you’re awake. Ready for some healing?”

                The captain returned the gesture and nodded as he began to sit up with the priest’s help. “Sure.”

                Aeiron quietly left the temple and closed the doors behind her as gently as she could. Her eyes remained glued to the ground the entire process, replaying her conversations with the wounded soldiers. Ralof’s remained stuck in her head as she pursed her lips in thought. She knew there was more meaning behind the man’s words besides the obvious, and his attraction to her always made her feel uncomfortable, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

                They were comrades, and that was it.

                _No one should ever love a failure_ , she kept telling herself for the past five years. _No one_.

                “My Thane!”

                The general looked up to see Lydia running towards her. She forced a smile on her face at her approaching Housecarl. “Hi, Lydia. What’s going on?”

                The older woman didn’t waste any time and gave her a slip of paper. “This came for you yesterday. The courier wouldn’t say who it was from…” Lydia’s words died out when Aeiron snatched the paper from her and opened it with hasty movements, almost ripping the worn parchment.

                The general’s eyes furiously scanned the symbols and scribbling on the paper before looking at Lydia with absolute disbelief and shock written all over her face. “No…”

                “…My Thane?”

                _She kept running._

                Aeiron had to run. Somewhere. _Anywhere_. And she did just that. The general blew past the Housecarl and nearly tackled her to the ground when she tried to pass her. As she recovered, Lydia looked up and saw her Thane frantically running down the steps. “Aeiron!”

                _They were coming after her._

                She ran through the wind district with the parchment fisted in her hand, crumpled up and slightly torn. The people in the market barely made it out of the way before the Thane came through in a flash. The guards were struggling to open the city gates in time as she approached them.

                _They were fast on her heels. Why wouldn’t they go away?_

                As soon as she was outside the city, she vaulted over the stone wall and rolled once she hit the ground before she picked herself up and kept running. The burning in her lungs seemed to not exist as she gasped for oxygen while she sprinted over the hilly and uneven terrain.

_Where was he? Why wasn’t he coming for her?_

* * *

 

                “I knew I shouldn’t have given her the letter!” Lydia’s furious outburst attracted the attention of the rest of the Companions having their lunch in the mead hall. Vignar tried to calm her down by raising his hands in defense.

                “Lydia. Relax. She couldn’t have gone far…”

                “If she carried Ralof back to Whiterun from the Imperial Camp, which is about ten miles from here, in two hours, then she can be pretty far by the time I go looking for her!”

                The Jarl sighed and nodded his head. “I see your point…”

                Aela approached them and raised an eyebrow at the anger written on the Housecarl’s face. “What’s going on?”

                The black haired woman sighed angrily before turning to face the Huntress. “Aeiron’s run off! I gave her the note that came yesterday and she just…took off!”

                “Any idea why?” Aela kept her composure. She was sure she and her brothers would find her, one way or another.

                Lydia paused a moment before answering the question. “It could’ve been a panic reaction.” The Housecarl looked up from the floor to look at the expectant faces of the Companion and the Jarl. “She told me, though vaguely and briefly, of how she and her father were being hunted for a period of time before they made their way to Skyrim, and even a while afterwards. Apparently, the Thalmor wanted both of them dead, for obvious reasons since her father could shout and was planning on joining the Stormcloak rebellion. He posed a threat and they wanted him and Aeiron gone.”

                “But how does this have to do with the symbols on the paper?”

                “I don’t know,” she sighed. “She took one look at it and ran off to…Gods know where!”

                Farkas and Vilkas looked at each other for a moment before nodding and standing up.  “We could help, if you want.” Aela offered. Lydia’s face immediately brightened up at the suggestion.

                “Could you?! I don’t think I’ll be able to find her by myself.” The Housecarl smiled for the first time in that hour as she and Aela turned to look at Vilkas and Farkas.

                “Vilkas, Farkas, Skjor went out on a job, so it looks like we’ll be the ones looking for Aeiron.”

                Vilkas nodded and looked up at his brother before eyeing the women again. “It’ll be best if we go in pairs.”

                The Huntress nodded and turned to look at Farkas. “You’re coming with me, Icebrain.”

                Farkas scowled at the nickname. “Really?”

                Lydia turned to look at the other twin. “I guess I’m going with you then?”

                Vilkas nodded and turned to head for the door side by side with the Housecarl as they followed out Aela and Farkas.

                Meanwhile, Ria bitterly downed another bottle of ale as she watched Vilkas leave Jorvaskr.

* * *

 

                The sun was setting fast and there was still no sign of the acclaimed general anywhere. Vilkas and Lydia kept light conversation, the Housecarl usually starting it while Vilkas tried to find her scent in the winds that were growing colder with the approaching nighttime. They covered the southwest of Whiterun with Farkas and Aela covered the northwest portion of the plains.

                “We better hurry,” Lydia spoke up after a long pause of them covering more rocky terrain. Vilkas shielded his eyes from the sun and looked up, seeing that it was slowly heading towards the horizon and behind the mountains.

                “Aye,” he agreed, turning back to look at the Housecarl panting. “You alright?”

                She nodded breathlessly. “We need to find Aeiron.” Lydia replied deprived of air as she marched up to Vilkas’ side and continued on with him. The Housecarl eyed the roads warily. “Vampires are still attacking travelers at night…”

                “We’ll be fine if we avoid using the roads and move slow to avoid being spotted.” Lydia nodded, looking down that the ground. “What is she like?” she was surprised when she heard Vilkas ask the question. Lydia paused and looked up at the Companion, seeing him look off to the distant mountains.

                “What, do you mean?” her eyes squinted as she tried to block out the dying sun while looking up at the man. He continued hiking along the ground and spoke up again.

                “What is Aeiron usually like to be around? I would assume you know her best, after all.”

                She considered the question, searched her mind and filtered through the one million words that could describe her Thane. “She’s… _different_. She has a fixation for chocolate and knowledge, art, and music. Loves to sing in the morning when she sometimes makes us breakfast and I sometimes hear her when she’s getting ready. Aeiron has a _temper_. I’ve never been afraid of anyone as much as her when she’s angry.” Lydia strangely didn’t have to look at him to know he was listening attentively.

                “But, she’s also one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. She sometimes plays with this girl that is by the Gildergreen, Lucia. Aeiron calls her ‘Lucky Luce’ and plays with her whenever she has the time, gives her gifts when she doesn’t, pays for her room at the Bannered Mare…” Lydia paused again and looked at Vilkas. “Why do you ask?”

                He shrugged, looking up at one corner of his vision. “I just wanted to know how to approach her when we find her.”

                _“If_ we find her. _”_ The Housecarl corrected him.

                Vilkas raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure we will.” He began walking past her while he called over his shoulder. “She was telling me how much of a mother hen you could be. I didn’t believe her until now, though.”

                Lydia stared at him for a good three seconds before storming to catch up with him. “Wait ‘till I find her. She’ll have an earful from me…”

                She thought he couldn’t hear her, but Vilkas chuckled breathlessly with a hint of a smirk at the woman’s mutterings under her breath. He froze; the clanking of his metal made Lydia slowly come to a halt. “What is it?” she asked, looking up at him and then his outstretched arm that was in front of her. She looked up, and the color left her face and replaced itself with dread.

                It was a lone figure, a long cloak blowing behind him as he walked over the distant hill a few hundred feet away from them slowly, almost in calculated steps. The pair could hear the clanking of his armor from where the stood. When he disappeared over the hill, they shared a look before sprinting up the hill to approach the man. When they got there, he was gone.

                “What the…” Lydia looked at the Companion for an answer, but he had none. It was if he was never there. By now, the sun was almost completely gone, and the distant glow of two lights caught his eyes.

                “Look,” he said, pointing towards what looked like an alter with two pillars on either side. Bodies were sprawled out on the ground before the shrine. He could make out a figure that looked like Aeiron’s standing in front of the alter, their back facing the pair. “There’s someone there.”

                “Maybe it’s Aeiron?” Lydia looked at him and took a step forward.

                “Maybe…” Vilkas pursed his lips and then drew his sword. “Let’s be careful though. It could be a trap.” Lydia nodded and followed his lead by drawing her war axe and followed him down the hill. The pair slowly came closer as they warily approached The Two Pillars, they later realized. When they were about fifty feet away, the stars were shining brightly and there was an aurora glowing above. Lydia sheathed her axe and stood up straight before approaching the figure.

                Before Vilkas had a chance to protest, Lydia spoke up. “Aeiron?” The Companion began approaching from the side and saw the flames’ glow flickering on the brunette’s face. She looked distantly into the flames while clutching her axe by her side with fresh blood dripping from the blade and onto the stone step she was standing on. He sheathed his greatsword and slowly approached her as Lydia was doing. “Aeiron? It’s Lydia,” she called out to the younger woman in a calm and loving voice, one a mother would have for a child.

                The grip on the battle axe tightened and the brunette clenched her teeth.  Vilkas eyed the bodies, seeing the dead Vampires lying motionless and stiff on the ground.

                “He was here.” Aeiron’s quiet voice finally replied to Lydia’s calling. She turned to face the Housecarl and raised her axe in a defensive stance. The Housecarl froze where she stood and raised her hands in the air. “Why did you _with **HIM?**_ ” Vilkas glanced at the shocked Housecarl as the Thane snarled at her, her eyes turning an ice blue color and beginning to glow. He felt his wolf stir at the action, wanting to rise to the challenge, wanting to fight the other animal inside of her.

                Vilkas groaned and his hands went to clench his head. _Breathe Vilkas_ ,he told himself. _Dammit, breathe!_ The Companion clenched his teeth and his eyes began to glow an amber color. Lydia glanced over at him and then back at the brunette. “He left.” She replied. “He had some things to take care of…”

                “ _Why didn’t he take me with **HIM**_?” Aeiron raised the axe higher as the Housecarl took another step towards her.

                “He promised to be back!” Lydia quickly interjected. “Your _father_ ,” she spoke more calmly now. Vilkas turned to look at her when she spoke the word “father”. “will be back soon. I _promise_.”

                Aeiron’s eyes widened and softened. Her arms lowered and the axe hit the stone beneath her. The general’s breathing grew heavier as she stared at the older woman with watery eyes.  “Athair…” The brunette’s voice grew high pitched as she let go of the axe completely and buried her face in her hands. “ _Athair…_ ” Vilkas’s wolf finally began to die down once more. The gold in his eyes flickered away and his silver eyes had returned as he watched Lydia approach the sobbing general and hugged her tightly.

                Lydia then turned to look at Vilkas, giving him a sympathetic look as he slowly drew nearer to the pair of women. The older woman then turned her attention to the brunette, seeing her slump forward and her voice dying down and her eyes closing. “Aeiron!” She kept the Thane from hitting the ground, but she wouldn’t be able to hold her up forever. Lydia looked up at the Companion once more. “Can you carry her?” she asked while raising her eyebrows. “I’m strong, but she’s _heavy_ for being short.”

                Vilkas trotted over and slowly scooped up the Stormcloak general in his arms for the second time that week. “Muscle weighs more than fat.” He calmly told her as he watched her pick up the Titanium battle axe off of the stone ground. Lydia looked up at the Companion and nodded.

                “Let’s head back. I’m sure that it’s safer in Jorvaskr than here with vampires lurking about.” The Housecarl stated while nodding towards the corpses by the shrine. Vilkas nodded and looked down at her, seeing the drastic change in her face from a few minutes ago when she was so _angry_. And now, she resembled a sleeping child with how calm she looked. He looked up again when he saw Lydia starting to walk ahead and followed her back to the city.

                He looked down when he felt her curling up to his chest about half way back and his grip on her became tighter as he ahead for any dangers that may be hidden ahead. Vilkas had Aeiron in his arms, and he strangely felt inclined to not let her go anytime soon under the bright nighttime sky above them. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, guys! Sorry I couldn't update sooner. I've been really busy...anyways, let me know what you guys thought? ^^

The chilled wind seemed to cut through Vilkas' armor and made him hold Aeiron closer to him. He and Lydia were about half way back to Whiterun, a time that seemed to crawling along slowly while the aurora above danced and flickered with endless energy. The Stormcloak general had become more of a handful then he ever thought possible within a matter of days. And just when he thought things couldn't become worse, the howling in his ears had reached new heights and was constantly testing the Companion's sanity.

"It's been a little over thirty minutes," the Housecarl informed as she trudged along with the battle axe hanging loosely from her hands. "She should wake up soon... at least, she normally does after these episodes."

" _Episodes_?" Vilkas gave her an incredulous look and blinked his eyes several times. His arms for a brief moment forgot the bundle he was carrying. "You mean this has happened more than  _once_?"

Hesitantly, Lydia nodded in reply and eyed the stone-paved road. "The first one that she had while I was around was when I was her Housecarl for only a few days. She completely left the world and was yelling at someone that wasn't there. Apparently, she was recollecting a past experience from when she and her father were constantly on the run."

The woman turned to the sky almost as if she were praying to any divine that would hear her. Vilkas looked back at Aeiron for a moment before looking up ahead at the road. "She kept yelling in some language I've never heard. I'm pretty sure almost everyone in Skyrim can say the same. I asked her about it once and Aeiron said that it was a language called Gaelic, but nothing else..."

"Kodlak might know something. He seemed well acquainted with Aeiron when she first arrived at Jorvaskr." The Companion nodded to he sleeping brunette that shifted ever so slightly in his arms. He meanwhile heard an unfamiliar roar in her blood that made his wolf stir almost uncontrollably. A small inhale of air through his nose made the man's feet stop abruptly and his heart pound faster. Blood seemed to clump at the back of Vilkas's throat as he looked at Lydia. She showed confusion with her uneasy stance and the wary look in her eye. As they slowly turned to look up ahead the scent was already unmistakeable and heading their way, fast.

"Vampires," Vilkas breathed out, almost growling out the word. He quickly turned and set Aeiron down by the side of the road slowly, laying her down as he had in her bed the last time. A choked gasp from Lydia made him turn quickly and draw his greatsword. Five of them, he counted; their eyes the color of blood and their scent wreaked of it as they stalked closer. The Companion's eyes scanned them all, seeing that two were Blood vampires while one was a Fledgeling and two were Mistwalkers. The wolf growled at them and then snapped at Vilkas to change and finally let the beast free. For once, the two seemed to agree on something, but then there was Lydia...

"Give us the general and we'll let you two go," one of the Mistwalkers spoke up; a deathly pale Bosmer with unmarred skin and a young face full of death in her eyes. The five had surrounded Lydia and him by this point and were slowly shortening the distance between them. Vilkas turned his head when he heard metal clatter to the ground and saw Lydia pulling out her war axe, staring the Mistwalker in the eye while scowling. The wind seemed to pick up.

"Lydia...?"

The Housecarl turned to see Aeiron stirring on the ground, rubbing her eyes groggily. She turned on her heel when hearing a loud scream and saw one of the vampires throwing themselves at her with their fangs and claws out, ready for the kill. Lydia began to bring up her war axe but she wasn't fast enough. The next thing she knew, the Housecarl was being pushed down to the ground.

Aeiron beat her to the punch by standing in front of her and blocking with the claws on her gauntlets. The general was pushed back a few inches before she quickly moved one arm away and stabbed the undead dark elf in the abdomen with her claws. She kicked away the elf and tightened her knuckles and flicked her wrists as the brunette turned to face the remaining four. The claws retracted and a pair of blades came from the underside of her gauntlets while her eyes glowed a bright ice blue. Another gust of wind blew by and the other vampires readied their claws and fangs, ready for the kill.

The Celt bared her teeth with her eyes narrowing, hairs on her body standing up straight as rulers. "Is é do chuid fola mianach (your blood is mine), vampires," Aeiron growled out and turned to look at the Housecarl and Companion. "Stay out of this," she turned to look at the undead leeches once more and grinned immorally and her newly sharpened canines were being licked over by her tongue.

One of the Mistwalkers scoffed and flexed his body and rolled his head before beckoning the general towards them. "So be it, Celt. You'll wind up regretting ever breathing those word-"

He didn't get the time to finish. One of the blades on Aeiron's gauntlets had already pierced him right through his chest. She stood in front of him before stabbing him with the other blade and then turning to face the oncoming fledgling. The axe they were wielding was deflected and then Aeiron kneed her in the gut, bringing both blades to stab the Fledgeling in the neck and then kicked her off with the same leg.

The Mistwalker from before came at the general once more. Aeiron dodged and shifted off to the right, tearing a large gash in his arm before once again dodging and countering with an aimed kick to the back of the leg and a swipe to the throat that barely left a scratch. Te other Mistwalker began using a life draining spell on the Celt. Aeiron staggered and fell onto her knees, and then shortly after she was on all fours. Her eyes changed and the glowing died down.

A battle cry and a close call with a greatsword made the undead Bosmer stop the spell and her impish grin fall. Vilkas stood panting for a second before rushing over to Aeiron's side. "Get up!" he yelled louder than he meant to. Aeiron looked up at him and nodded, the blades retracting. Her back faced his and Aeiron clenched her fists and brought her claws forth once more.

"My Thane!"

She turned to see Lydia toss her axe through the air. Aeiron smirked at the Housecarl and caught her axe, twirling it out of muscle memory before bracing herself for the oncoming fight against the four remaining vampires. The wind began to pick up once more. "Vilkas," she eyed him through her peripheral vision through her regular gray-blue eyes. He glanced at her the same way before eyeing the two vampires in front of him. "Have you ever killed a vampire before?"

"Aye." He replied with a small smirk. "I've killed one of everything in Skyrim." Aeiron scoffed at his cocky reply and rolled her eyes. Vilkas' smirk faded and he scowled at her.

"Only one?"

The Companion was about to give her a snarky comment when the four descended upon the two, shouting at them that their lives were about to end. Aeiron reacted first by kicking one away and swinging at the Blooded vampire, grazing its shoulder and part of his back as he shifted and moved in to swing at her with his sword. Vilkas stepped around the general and blocked before kicking him in the gut and bringing his sword down upon the vampire. The greatsword sliced through the vampire's collar bone and down to his abdomen before Vilkas kicked off the corpse and turned to face the remaining three.

Aeiron was meanwhile busy fending off the other three vampires, dodging intensely and fending them off in what seemed to be a dance that took years to memorize. Whenever one of them tried to use a leeching spell, she would step in back of one of the other two vampires just as it was being cast, almost as if she knew what to look for before striking a deadly blow. Her eyes quicky glanced from one side to another, seeing the three lined up in a row. She smirked before opening her mouth and directing her thuum at the three vampires. "Krii, Lun AUS!"

Vilkas watched them stumble back a bit before turning his attention over to Aeiron, who was wasting no time in going for the kill. He scoffed lightly before slicing through the other Blooded vampire. "I forgot you were the Dragonborn for a moment!"

He heard her laugh in bitter amusement but heard no other reply above the clashing metal and grunts from their fight. She dodged and swung at the one Mistwalker's leg and effectively removed the Bosmer's leg below her knee. While she screamed out, Aeiron stabbed her with the end of her axe right through her heart. The other Mistwalker, a Breton, charged at her almost instantly. The general pulled her axe out of the corpse and then dodged.

Aeiron lost a few hairs ducking down and dodging an axe that was sent flying through the air in back of her. The steel axe planted itself right into the Breton's skull and the vampire fell to the ground dead. She turned to see Lydia with her right arm still extended in the air, a small satisfied smile on the Housecarl's face. Aeiron straightened up and smirked while resting her axe on her right shoulder with both hands still on the handle. "Thanks!"

Lydia merely nodded with a frown and walked over to retrieve her axe. Aeiron turned to look at the Companion that was eyeing the corpses warily before sheathing his greatsword and walking over towards the two women. Aeiron chuckled dryly and the other two turned to look at her with a quizzical look. Lydia turned to face her after yanking her axe out of the vampire's skull and wiping the blood off in the grass. "We make a good team," the brunette finally revealed after seeing their expressions with a juvenile smile and twinkle in her eye.

"I suppose," the Companion shrugged with a nonchalant look. Aeiron turned to eye him and beamed, grin widening.

"Aeiron!" Lydia called out.

"Hmm?" She turned to look at the Housecarl, not seeing where her axe was swinging. The next thing Aeiron knew, something heavy blocked her axe's trajectory and she heard Vilkas yell out in pain, followed out by a long groan. Lydia and Aeiron both turned to see the Companion covering his face with his hands and falling to his knees. "Grumpy...! VILKAS!"

She had just  _slapped_  Vilkas with her axe.

"AEIRON!" The said Thane looked up at her Housecarl to see the scowl on her face and cringed lightly.

"I didn't mean to-" she sputtered out while nearly dropping her axe. "It was an  _accident_!?" Lydia merely crossed her arms and let the frown on her face deepen.

"Woman..." Vilkas looked up at the brunette through a small peep hole he made through a gap in his fingers and used it to glare darkly at her. The Dragonborn gulped and laughed nervously, lowering her axe in front of her.

"Are you...alright?"

"Ysmir's beard woman...Does it  _look_  like I'm alright to you?!" He turned to look up at her and dropped his hands. A lovely shade of red now colored his face where the bridge of his nose would be, and his eyes had an ever so slight tinting of amber to them.

"Now, now..." Lydia thankfully intervened and came between the pair, raising her hands in front of them. She knelt down to help the Companion back up onto his feet. "Let's head back to Whiterun before we encounter  _more_  trouble."

Aeiron sheepishly nodded and trudged along side the two back to Whiterun as the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon.

* * *

Through the course of the entire day after being welcomed back, Aeiron made it a point to avoid the grumpy warrior whenever she heard him approaching and left the room the minute he showed up. Vilkas was doing nothing but looking at her with a dark sneer on his face and muttering under his breath about how much of a handful she was. Farkas and the others seemed to find the whole ordeal amusing, much to the general's pain. Aela offered to "reason with the bastard" but Aeiron turned down the offer, despite as good as it had sounded.

Kodlak seemed to reason with Vilkas after he called him down into his room sometime after lunch. No longer was he sneering, but Vilkas sported a scowl whenever he set his eyes on the brunette. And by lunch, she lost all the fucks she could give and merely smiled and waved as she remembered her father doing towards people who hated him with a cheeky grin and a wiggle of her fingers while waving at him from the other side of the room.

She sat at one of the benches by the front doors, slouching and occasionally sipping her chocolate milk while reading one of her books. Farkas sat down next to her and offered her a sweetroll with a small smile on his face. "Don't let Vilkas get to you. He's usually like that."

Aeiron nodded and accepted the treat with a smile in return. "Thanks," she spoke in between bites. "Even though it  _is_  my fault he's like this..." The brunette sighed and looked up at the twin with a nervous smile.

"Yeah," he replied. And then he started chuckling slowly, grinning wider when the Companion saw the brunette's scowling at him. "Lydia told me what happened. Gotta say, I wish I was there to see it."

She shrugged and then leaned her head against Farkas' shoulder. Aeiron heard his low chuckle once more before he wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her arm reassuringly. "Thanks, Farkas," she said quietly.

"Anytime," he replied before looking down at her. "Ralof was asking for you earlier. Danica let him get some fresh air before returning to the temple and he stopped by here asking where you were."

Aeiron stiffened, smile dropping and quickly rising from her seat on the bench. " _Feck!_ " She turned to face Farkas quickly and started talking a mile a minute with that thick brogue of hers. "Thanks, Farkas! I have to go now..." Aeiron bolted for the staircase towards the living quarters but then stopped on her heel when she reached the stairs, turning to wave at the Companion. "I'll be back later!"

Farkas smiled, clearly entertained as he watched the brunette run down the staircase and hear the doors open and shut in a record breaking time. He sat there for maybe twenty or thirty seconds, about ready to get up and approach Vilkas when the doors opened once more and Aeiron bolted up the stairs and ran out of Jorvaskr's doors. Farkas paused for another five seconds, half expecting her to return, before getting up and walking over to the long table and sitting next to his brother.

Vilkas was munching on a loaf of bread and reading the book that he had returned with after his earlier talk with Kodlak. Farkas sat down as loudly as he could, making his twin glance up at him in annoyance before returning to the book. The bandage on his face where his eyebrows met above his nose was thick and trailed onto the bridge of his nose. He looked absolutely  _ridiculous_.

"Nice bandage," Farkas comented as he reached for a bottle of ale, trying to hide the smirk on his face. The comment worked. Vilkas slammed the book shut and slowly turned his head to look at his brother, eyes with a tint of amber to the.

"What in Shor's name do you want, brother?" Much to the twin's annoyance, Farkas' smirk grew as he sipped his ale while holding eye contact.

"You seem distressed, Vilkas. Are you going to continue to glare at her every time you watch her pass by and run out the door for  _Ralof_?" He said the Stormcloak captain's name in a teasing manner, and once again he got the response he was expecting; Vilkas getting up and storming away to his room where he could brood with his brother's laughter following him every step of the way there. "Good luck with that!" Farkas called over his shoulder once more. When he heard the doors open and then slam shut, he took another sip of his ale while shaking his head in amusement.

He could read his brother like a book.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was relatively easy to write for some reason o.o;  
> Let me know what you guys thought? :D

_“Vilkas, come in for a moment.”_ _Kodlak greeted him and gestured for him to sit in the empty chair beside the table the Harbinger was sitting at. The younger man looked up at the elder before nodding lightly and slowly taking his seat. He heard the old man sigh heavily. Kodlak avoided his gaze for a moment before turning to look at the younger Companion. “I heard what happened.”_

_Vilkas’ hand unconsciously went to the bandage that was where his eyebrows met and lightly squeezed the bridge of his nose in annoyance, blowing out the air in his lungs. “Oh, have you now?”_

_“I’m not going to laugh, Vilkas. You should know me better than that by now, you of all people.” Kodlak looked down the empty hallway through the open doors. Vilkas looked up at the Harbinger and shamefully hung his head lightly, clamping his eyes shut and wondering how things became so_ fucked _in a matter of days._

_“Apologies, Harbinger.”_

_Kodlak huffed in reply. “I suppose you want to know about her.”_

_Vilkas’ silence was his form of assent as he pursed his lips and nodded his head. The Harbinger looked back at him and smiled wryly. “I knew her father well. Very brave man.” He sighed bitterly as he felt a lump in his throat and chest build, looking through the open doors once more. “He joined the Companions after The Great War, and was one of my most trusted friends. He…He was a highly decorated soldier in the war, and he eventually joined the ranks of the Circle.”_

_The younger Companion listened intently, knowing there was more to his tale. “He was annulling his first marriage when he joined. His wife…” Kodlak scoffed bitterly. “She was a complete bitch, frankly. She accused Phil of cheating on her while he was taking jobs left and right to come up with the coin to pay for their two daughters…” he shook his head sadly. “And they were no better than her. Phil was usually tumbling in, sleep deprived and amazingly still able to carry his body to the nearest bench and pass out.”_

_There was a pause. Kodlak didn’t know how to continue by the way he was pursing his lips and Vilkas had questions buzzing in his head. “Aeiron isn’t a full-blooded Nord, is she?” Kodlak looked back at him and shook his head._

_“She’s Celtic, like her father.” He answered straightforwardly. The wolf twin frowned._

_“I’ve been hearing that word constantly over the past few days. Harbinger,” he pleaded. “What does it_ mean _?”_

_“The Celts have been around for a long time. No one knows exactly how long. They’re mutts, if you will. A conglomeration of other races, both mer and human alike.   Most Celtic tribes dwell in the highlands of Cyrodiil and the low lands and mountain ranges of Skyrim, but they run scare here, my boy; only a handful in each reach and only one in Whiterun.”_

_“Aeiron.” Vilkas answered and the Harbinger nodded at him once more before continuing on._

_“Phil fell in love with a half-Imperial woman who was also half-Nord.” The old man chuckled with nostalgia. “You would laughed at how long and hard he chased her around. He eventually followed her to Cyrodiil and settled down with her and they had the Stormcloak general you see now.” Kodlak nodded up the hallway towards the brunette who was making her way to the Whelps’ room with a pleasant smile on her face. “In one conversation I had with Phil, he told me that the Celts practice something similar to Lycanthropy.”_

_Vilkas’ eyes narrowed as they stared after the woman, but he was listening to Kodlak all the same. “They adopt an animal spirit chosen for them by Kyne. Philip was chosen to house a horse spirit, speed and endurance being increased ten-fold.” The wolf still had his eyes on the brunette, who was talking pleasantly with Ria and Athis now, laughing lightly as she gestured Farkas to join the growing party._

_“And what about Aeiron?” Vilkas asked, barely thinking about the question and more about who it entailed. She turned to look down the hallway and saw him glaring at her. Aeiron smirked and waved at him for a second before turning to talk with the wolf’s twin._

_“For a few years after she was born, Phil wrote to me. He told me that she was chosen as an animal that hasn’t been housed in Celts for nearly five centuries…until she was born.”_

_“But she’s dragonborn,” Vilkas finally turned to look at the older man sitting across from him. “How can she house an animal if she already has the spirit of a dragon inside of her?”_

_“She is dragonborn, Vilkas. Indeed, she has the blood and spirit of a dragon…However, the animal she houses has more influence over her than the dragonblood.”_

_“And,” Vilkas paused to look at the brunette once more and watched her pivot on her heels and give a feral smirk. “what animal would that be?” He couldn’t hear the beast blood for once; only her laughing voice and Kodlak’s telling one._

_“A lion, Vilkas.”_

_And suddenly, her thick mane for a head of hair and the way her eyes glowed suddenly made sense._

                Kodlak gave him a book on the Celts, one that he had been re-reading for hours to comprehend the odd language, but it was pointless. It was written in the same language that Aeiron spoke fluently in, and he would rather go _hunting_ that have to socialize with her. He hated her, after all. At least, Vilkas _thought_ he did. It was eleven at night and he hadn’t eaten anything since earlier on that day.

                Groaning, he slammed the book shut with the hand that held it open and tossed it onto the nightstand before rubbing his face with his hands and forcing himself to gain composure. Vilkas looked at the door and shook his head before he loathingly got up and crossed the threshold to his bedroom door and trudged upstairs to the mead hall.

                He grabbed the nearest bottle of ale and popped the cork of with little to no effort before taking a long swig of the alcohol.

                _CLANG!_

                Vilkas paused and then looked towards the set of double doors to the training yard. He heard it again, much to his disbelief.

                _CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!_

Was someone really using the Skyforge to smith something at _this_ time of night? Only one way to find out…

                As Vilkas left Jorvaskr and opened the door to Whiterun city, the noise of clashing metal indeed grew louder. His feet brought him to the Skyforge and his nose picked up _her_ scent. When he reached the top of the stairs, he finally believed his nose and froze. The bridge of his nose relieved the pain of being slapped by her battle axe all over again.

                Aeiron was out of her Stormcloak Officer armor, now donning a pair of bandages on her arms that covered her hands and cascaded past the fabric barrier of her top, which would be something that a man at a tavern would wear; a short sleeve emerald green shirt that was longer on her and cut past the elbow and a chocolate brown vest over that with a belt tying it around her waist. A quiver of steel arrows rested against her back that threatened to spill every time she bent forward. She wore a lighter shade of green pants that were cuffed over at her ankles. Looking down at her feet, Vilkas still noted that she wore her officer boots and her pants were cuffed when they reached her ankles. The embers made her face glow, sweat beading and crawling down the skin of her face from her brow and temples. He treaded with caution, watching as she picked up the metal with prongs and dipped it in the water by her side.

                As she went to pick up another piece of Ebony metal, she happened to look up and see the grumpy Companion crossing his arms and eyeing her questioningly with an eyebrow raised. Aeiron smirked at him, as if she was genuinely happy to see him and laughed unbelievingly. “Dia duit!” she shouted at him before turning back to hammering at the black metal. Vilkas was baffled to say the least, blinking his eyes and trying to comprehend what she had just said to him.

                “What?” he shouted back.

                She paused and turned to face him once more. “Dia. Duit.” She said slower this time, smiling pleasantly. “It means ‘hello’ in Gaelic.” Vilkas nodded in understanding as she stared at him for a moment longer before turning back to the forge.

                He watched her and the way she was bending the metal into her desired shape, seeing it deform into something that looked like it would be from the planes of Oblivion. Curiosity was finally getting the best of him. “What are you making?” he asked, leaning a bit forward as he did.

                Aeiron paused once more, turning to face him with a skeptical look. “What?” her question came out sounding more annoyed than she currently was by the abrupt pause she had to take, but none the less, she appreciated the company.

                Vilkas cupped his mouth and shouted louder this time. “What in Oblivion are you _making?_ ”

                “Ohhhh!” she giggled lightly and let her hand holding the hammer drop to her side. “A Daedric bow!” She smiled at his paling face and the way his jaw slacked. A _what?_

                His rapidly blinking eyes showed his disbelief at her answer and she laughed louder this time. Aeiron smirked and gestured for him to come over and observe by her side. Vilkas was walking against his will, but at the same time, he wanted to be closer to the forge and not let the chilling wind blowing through the city slice through his body as badly.

                She began hammering away again, clearly an expert on the craft with the way she hammered the metal down in all of the right places. He stared down at the red hot metal before looking back up at the Celt and let the scowl on his face leave him somewhat. “Why a Daedric weapon?” Vilkas asked in a calmer voice as he eyed the brunette.

                “They deal more damage. Vampires use them a lot and werewolves have a weakness for them.” She answered him, panting lightly from the intense heat as she hammered away at the metal. The wolf growled in annoyance but liked her way of thinking all the same. The beast urged him to keep the conversation flowing after a short awkward pause. Vilkas couldn’t help but agree with the notion.

                “How long have you known how to smith weapons?”

                “Athair taught me.” She answered, and then paused to laugh at her own stupidity. “Athair means ‘father’.” The young Companion nodded and was unknowing to his lips twitching up at the corners. Aeiron went back to her smithing, hitting the hammer a few more times on the metal before switching for the prongs and dipping it in the water once more. She turned to look at him once more, noticing his intense stare on her and blinked up at Vilkas confused. “Something the matter?”

                Vilkas was startled when his chain of thought was severed and turned away, frowning deeply while shaking his head. Aeiron stared after him for a moment and then shrugged nonchalantly before returning to her metal work. The ebony came out of the water steaming and Aeiron placed it on the anvil once more. She put the hammer down on the side with a careful slowness in her movements and held out her hand, palm open expectantly.

                The Companion saw Aeiron’s hand and looked up at her, raising his eyebrows lightly. “Hand me my pouch over there?” She spoke gently, gesturing to the far side of the forge with her head and a small frown on her face. Vilkas eyed her for a moment with cold eyes before doing as she asked, dropping the pack’s leather handle in her hand that made her arm sag down with the weight. Aeiron gave him a tense glance before kneeling down and placing the pack on the ground and sifting through its contents.

                He watched her produce a Daedric heart from the bag, pounding and twitching in her hand as if it were still alive. Vilkas watched her sullen face as she tossed it up in the forge’s flames. The fire glowed a bright red, flames giving off the aura of death. “I don’t think Eorlund would appreciate you doing this to his forge,” Vilkas finally spoke up, raising an eyebrow as he had before with a disapproving look.

                Aeiron turned to look back at him, corners of her lips twitching upwards ever so slightly. “It doesn’t last long. He’ll never know unless you open your mouth.” She didn’t wait for an answer and he didn’t give one, so she turned her attention back to the flame and picked up the set of prongs to fetch the daedra heart out of the forge’s mouth. Vilkas was once again drawn to the way the embers and sparks danced around her, around the beating heart in the prong’s metal jaws as she pulled it out from the forge and poured the blood seeping out of the dead organ into the slots in the Ebony bow.

                Red lights that mimicked the aurora dancing in the sky above seethed around her. She breathed in the decaying stench around her deeply with a small smirk, almost as if she was unfazed by it. Vilkas by now was holding his nose and it stung for him to keep his eyes open. Why he was still around, he didn’t know. “Vilkas,” She turned to look up at him. The Companion opened his eyes that threatened to water and saw the calm look in them, envied her for being able to keep her composure with the deadly essence leaking out of the daedra heart. “You can leave, if it’s bothering you too much.” The general then undid the bandages on her left hand and fished out an oddly shaped dagger from her pack, a black and silver one that had a daedra character on it halfway up the scabbard.

                Vilkas watched with widened eyes as she carefully removed the scabbard with her hand and put it down on the stone edge of the forge. The brunette sliced through her palm lightly and let her blood drip into the slots where the daedra blood had been drying. Aeiron breathed through gritted teeth, muttering words that he could barely picked up with his heart pounding in his ears. The daedra blood was making him go insane with rapidly blurring vision and a thirst in the back of his throat that only the wolf could satisfy.

                “It’s over, Vilkas.” She spoke lightly, using light restoration magic to heal her injury on her hand and then turned to look up at him. The flames in the forge by now had returned to normal, the air becoming clearer to breathe once more. Vilkas’ vision slowly turned back to normal as he made a blurry outline of the brunette’s body approaching him. Aeiron stopped before him and flicked him on the forehead playfully. “Thought I lost you there, Grumpy.”

                Everything was crystal clear in that moment through his senses. He could see the taunting smile on her face, the mischievous gleam in her eyes, her laughter now ringing in his ears as she turned on her heal and walked back towards the forge. He watched her movements and saw her pick up the bow, blue aura seeping through the Ebony instead of the usual red that he had seen once or twice. Vilkas stared, the aura drawing him closer towards it. “What did you do to it?” he asked with cautious footsteps.

                Aeiron smirked and tossed it lightly in her hands once before passing it over to the Companion in the air. He caught it with much ease and didn’t flinch as the lukewarm metal rested in his bare hands, sharp and hardening metal poking into his hands lightly. “I did one better.” She replied, rewrapping her hand with the bandage from before. With a finger, Aeiron pointed to the bow in his hands.  “That, Grumpy,” She began, placing her hands on her hips with a confident smirk. “Is much more powerful than any daedric weapon around.”

                Vilkas blinked a few times before looking back up at her. “How—”

                Aeiron picked up the dagger from before and sheathed it in its scabbard before waving it in the air. “I have my ways.” She picked up her pack and tossed the dagger in the back without a second thought before approaching the Companion and fetching her bow from his curious hands. “I’ll see you around, Grumpy.” The brunette shouldered her new bow and waved at him as she walked away, calling over her shoulder. “You hate me enough as is. Wouldn’t want to damage your handsome face anymore than I already have, let alone give you a reason to scowl all of the time.”

                He could practically hear the smirk on her face that was sure to be there, and it was when Aeiron turned to face him. “Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”

                “Shouldn’t you?” Vilkas countered defensively while raising an eyebrow. The second one rose when he watched her roll her eyes and shake her head.

                “Can’t. Have to leave now.”

                “For?”

                She had begun walking away already, but Aeiron pivoted on her heels once more and hunched over lightly, almost bowing while her hands were spread open on either side. “Tá na liopaí séalaithe.”  (These lips are sealed.)

                Vilkas furrowed his eyebrows and lowered his hands, beginning to follow after her. Her laughter made him stop as she turned around and marched down the steps.

                She reached the bottom of the steps in front of Jorvaskr when a flickering shadow made the brunette drop her pack and draw her bow, reaching in the quiver on her shoulder for a steel arrow. Aeiron aimed past the Gildergreen at a figure leaning against the trunk of the tree, smirking in the moonlight. “Now now, Lass, that isn’t necessary.” Aeiron’s frown lightened and her arms slacked at the familiar voice.

                “Well, well, the francach salach (dirty rat) decides to drop by.” Aeiron smirked bitterly and shouldered her bow and drawn arrow, bending down to pick up the pack she had dropped.

                The red haired man stepped forward from the shadows and smirked down at her, raising an amused brow at her. “It’s been a long time, Lass.” He continued to walk closer to her.

                “A little over four years, to be accurate.” She replied dryly, hands going to her hips. “What the feck do you want, Brynjolf?”

                Bryn placed a hand over his chest and sighed deeply. “You wound me, Lass. I just dropped by to say “hello” and this is how you greet me?”

                The brunette scoffed bitterly. “I know you better than to just drop your “work” for some chit-chat.” Her frown returned. “Now what is _it_?”

                All traces of humor faded from the thief’s face. “I heard about the attack by the vampires.”

                “Word travels that fast?” Aeiron leaned against the stone wall and crossed her arms, keeping her eyes glued on the thief.

                “I did some pokin’ around, if you will.” He replied dryly and repeating her action, standing next to her and looking down at the brunette.

                “What did you find?” Aeiron asked as patiently as she could, her blood was boiling faster than she was counting on.

                “I know who sent them.” Her silence beckoned Brynjolf to give his answer. His heavy sigh showed his reluctance, but he complied, nonetheless. “The Teaghlaigh want to hold a gathering. They ordered me not to tell you until then.”

                Aeiron eyed the stone below her feet, cursing under her breath and then looked up at him once more. “When and where?”

                “The toppled towers; north of Knifepoint Ridge, this Turdas at midnight.”

                She nodded and looked down. “Two days from now.” Bryn looked down at her with a smirk and then began to walk away.

                “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lass,” he smirked at her over his shoulder, his brogue flowing smoothly from his lips. Aeiron looked at him boringly and crossed her arms, raising both of her eyebrows. “I’ll leave you to your priorities and return to mine.” He disappeared into the shadows once more and the brunette rolled her eyes at the other Celt’s cockiness. She sighed lightly before continuing past the Gildergreen and casually making her way to Breezehome.

                She heard Lydia snoring the second she opened the front door and gently shut it behind her. Aeiron pulled her armor out of her pack and stripped herself of the casual clothes that she wore before donning her armor, putting it on as quickly and quietly as she could. She shoved the clothes into her pack and reached for the nearest sheet of paper and a piece of thinned charcoal that she trimmed for easier writing abilities.

                Once she scrawled the note, Aeiron picked up her battle axe and slung it over her shoulder, how bow glowing as it rested below the axe and next to the quiver she still wore on her back. Aeiron looked up the stairs one last time before heading out the front door quietly.

                _Lydia,_

_Gone for a few days, something came up. Visit Ralof for me and figure out some way I can call it even with Grumpy._

_-Aeiron_

_P.S. –Say hi to Lucia for me._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update! I just had trouble finding where to go with this chapter, and now I figured it out! So enjoy! And let me know what you guys thought? :)

“Hands in the air, Stormcloak!”

“Drop the battle axe!”

                Aeiron gritted her teeth and smiled bitterly. _Shit_. She complied, seeing a black figure to her nine o’clock not too far off and moving in fast and swiftly through the underbrush. She swore they came from nowhere. The general couldn’t sense them as they sprung their trap on her and ambushed her, pointing their crossbows right at her head. Not even enough time to take one down…

                Damn _Thalmor._

                She _did_ however, know who was coming in closer, and was relieved but annoyed at the same time as she glared at one of the Justicars as they slowly approached. _Go to The Toppled Towers_ , he said. _It’ll be fine_ , he said. Speaking of which…                

                Aeiron dropped down onto her side and swept the High Elf down onto the ground and then swung her axe down right through his chest, then quickly using the Celtic blade to deflect one of the bolts that was fired at her, the other one missed her head by a couple of inches and impaled itself into her hair and bound it to the grass below her. When she looked up again, a glass dagger had been thrown at the other Thalmor agent and impaled itself into her skull. She fell to the ground dead before the corpse’s back touched down.

                The other elf drew her sword and was quickly advancing on the general. Aeiron ripped the bolt out of the ground and sat up just in time to block the sword with her axe as she fell onto her back. A chill ran up her spine when she saw the dark grin on the elf’s face as she raised her blade in the air once more. The general tried to crawl back, but the Thalmor agent had her foot on the brunette’s chest.

                She had to act, and _now_.

                Darkness consumed her mind before she could comprehend what was happening, the word writing itself in the dark.

 _Force_.

                The blade was swiftly slicing through the air and now inches from the brunette’s face. “FUS!” Aeiron screamed as loud as she could with ragged breath. She watched as the High Elf flew back through the air and fell onto the ground. She shook her head and searched for her golden sword on the ground and hastily grabbed it before seeing a shadow block out the sun above her. The Thalmor Justicar was greeted by a pair of glowing blue eyes and an axe raised up above her.

                She screamed as the axe came down upon her and slashed through her chest, carving her heart in two. The Celt smirked as blood sprayed through the air and pried out her battle axe with a foot on the corpse to keep her balance.

                “You work fast, Lass.”

                Aeiron blinked and the world came back to life with the chirping of birds and the light feather touch of a breeze passing through the thicket of trees. She turned to see the thief’s lips curled up in a gentle smirk with gleaming emerald eyes as he played with the bloodied glass dagger in his hand. The general returned the smile, only making it bitter as she sheathed her axe and turned to face him. Her smile fell. “They’re getting better at tracking us.”

                “Aye,” the older man let out a forlorn sigh as he crossed his arms and slacked in his posture somewhat. The drying blood looked glossy in the warm sunlight of the late morning. Aeiron couldn’t help but stare at it a bit before shifting her gaze back to the thief. “Don’t bother heading to the towers. When I got there, they were crawling all over the place.”

                “ _Feck_.” Aeiron ran her hands down her face and blinked her eyes rapidly as she paced through the grass. Her arms dropped as she pursed her lips and looked back at Brynjolf. “Well, there must be _something_ we can do!”

                “Aeiron, we’re not ready to launch an all-out war with them. You know as well as I do that we’re a dying people. Give it another century or two and—”

                “ _GO LEOR! (ENOUGH)”_ Brynjolf jumped a bit and let his arms fall to his sides, quizzically eyeing the younger woman. Aeiron heaved a mournful sigh and gave him a look that made him think she was ready to weep; only there were no tears bubbling in her eyes. “Bryn…” Aeiron’s voice had become much quieter now, barely a mumble. She clenched her fists and turned her back to him, clamping her eyes shut.            

                The older thief sighed heavily. “Look, Lass…I don’t like it either, but it’s the truth.” He took a step forward towards her. “The Thalmor are after us. They _know_ we can take them down if our numbers were greater. And Phil…well, he’s their number one concern at the moment.”

                Her eyes began to sting and she gritted her teeth. She vaguely felt something run down her cheek. “Any word of him? Of…my father…?”

                Bryn’s hesitant silence was enough of an answer for her.

                “I see…Well,” she turned to look at him over her shoulder. Bryn had his lips pursed and his eyes held a soft look to them. “We’ll no doubt be seeing each other before the month’s through. You know where I am if you need me.” She turned to walk away.

                “Lass.” Bryn called out after her.

                She paused.

                “The new general that the Imperials have…he’s a High Elf.”

 

                She froze mid step, and then she slowly turned to look at him with widened eyes and knitted eyebrows.

                “And he plans on making his first move soon.”

* * *

 

                Vilkas rolled out of bed around eleven in the morning...literally. The Companion hit the ground groaning loudly and cursing under his breath as he shook his head and tried to clear the oncoming headache from the lump now growing on his head. Maybe he had too much to drink last night…regardless, Ysolda made it worth his while afterwards, but it didn’t help his throbbing head now.

                 Lethargically, he picked himself up and made his way up to the mead hall upstairs after sluggishly strapping his armor on. Kodlak was the only other person sitting at the table besides Farkas, and he turned to look at the younger Companion when he heard him approach.

            "Good morning, Vilkas."

            Said grumpy man merely groaned in reply as he sat down and grabbed the nearest bottle of ale. He was happy, if one could call it that. The four going on five days that Aeiron had been gone on whatever errand she had gave some peace and quiet time. That woman could be so infuriating sometimes that he...

             A second before he heard her laughter, his nose finally began functioning and he picked up her scent from across the hall that was mixed with some light trace of a fragrance that most of the women in the country wore in excess. She was giggling. And wearing a flower crown on top of her head, of all things.

            Vilkas' eye began twitching as he looked on the other side of the mead hall and saw her, along with a young Imperial girl no more than nine or ten, playing a card game. And to top it off, it was Go Fish. He couldn't help but to stare at her with an incredulous look and purse his lips. Vilkas’ ears could pick up the conversation the two of them were having; Aeiron was accusing Lucia of being a cheat because she apparently lost for the third time in a row.

            "Aeiron came back early this morning. You slept right through the celebration." The older man answered his unspoken question with a small smirk. Vilkas glared warningly at the Harbinger, who merely chuckled in response and took a sip from his own ale. "That little girl," he spoke up again and nodded towards the girl in the green dress. "That's Lucky Luce."

            The younger Companion blinked a few times, letting his anger morph into confusion. "The girl who usually sits in front of the Gildergreen?"

             Kodlak nodded. "She came by here an hour ago with Aeiron's Housecarl and she almost tackled the woman to the ground." The older man laughed at recalling the scene before slowly shifting his attention back to Vilkas. “Quite a handful, that one.”

                “I wonder where she gets it from.” Vilkas rolled his eyes and chugged down the rest of his ale before gasping loudly and getting up from his seat. “Excuse me a moment.”

                “Where are you going, Vilkas?”

                “The woman’s gone for almost a week and has been staying here for a little bit longer than that.” He stretched his arms over his head and grunted slightly when he felt a muscle in his back pop. “I think it’s about time she received her first contract.”

                “Farkas already gave it to her.”

                Vilkas froze. He slowly turned to look at his twin, who was looking up at him with a knowing smirk while munching on a piece of bread. The other twin then turned to look at the Harbinger, jaw about ready to slack and eyes threatening to bug out of his skull.

                “She has yet to finish it, however. Maybe if you stay awake, you might not miss anything else that happens around here.” Kodlak gave him a cheeky smile before shooing Vilkas off with his hand while drinking more of his ale. The Companion rolled his eyes and turned on his heel and walked over to the pair sitting at the far end of the hall.

                Aeiron was the first one to spot him, much to the man’s luck. He watched her face as he approached; seeing it turn from one of shock to donning a cheeky grin and her coyly waving him over with a mischievous glint in her eye. He already knew he was knee deep in shit and he just saw her less than thirty seconds ago…

                She turned her eyes away and her smile morphed into the calm one she was wearing a minute ago. “Morning, Grumpy.” Vilkas merely stared at her with his usual glare. Lucia shyly looked up at him, scooting a bit closer to Aeiron when she met his eyes. The brunette chuckled and placed her cards on the floor before wrapping an arm around the child. “Don’t be scared of him, Luce. The Big Bad Wolf won’t get passed me.”

                The wolf snickered in amusement while the Companion hit the damned dog on the snout mentally. Lucia giggled slightly and buried her head in Aeiron’s chest. The man sighed, crossing his arms and clearly showing he was running out of patience for this “childish” behavior that the general always seemed to display wherever she went. “Kodlak informed me you have a contract that you haven’t finished yet.”

                “Oh,” Aeiron blinked her eyes before smirking arrogantly. “I didn’t realize you felt obligated to be my superior now.”

                “Until you join the Circle, I will be higher in rank around here. I don’t care that you’re Dragonborn, or a general. What I say, _goes_.”

                “And if I refuse?” she batted her eyelashes at him innocently, still grinning from ear to ear. Damn this woman….He was running out of patience already, and he had only been up for a good fifteen or twenty minutes. The two began a stare off; Vilkas with his steel cold eyes, and Aeiron with her glossy ice blue eyes. Her grip on Lucia unconsciously got a bit tighter as the seconds dragged out, her other hand forming a fist on the ground.

                Aeiron sighed and finally pulled Lucia a bit away from her, giving her a remorseful look. “Well, kid, looks like we’ll have to continue this later.” The nine year old pouted and the brunette placed a chaste kiss by Lucia’s temple before letting go of her and getting up off of the floor. “Alright, Grumpy; you win. Now follow me.” She motioned for Vilkas to follow as she walked past him.

                “Wait!”

                Both the Companion and the general looked at the Imperial girl when they heard her sudden interjection. Lucia looked at both of them nervously, pursing her lips before daring to continue. “Where are you taking Aeiron?”  

                Vilkas was about to answer and Aeiron spoke up, a smirk quickly making her mouth crooked. “Mommy’s going to kick some ass, Sweetie. I’ll be back in about—”

                “Can I go with you?”

                Aeiron’s smirk fell off of her face and pair blinked their eyes before looking at each other briefly. She pursed her lips and thought it over for a moment before smiling and breathing out a light, amused laugh. “Why not?”

                “Aeiron—”

                “It’s my contract, right?” she smiled up at him

                “Yes, bu—”

                “And you’re still coming along, right?”

                He paused for a moment, and then smirked when he caught onto what she was implying. “So,” he raised an eyebrow at her. “You want me to play babysitter?”

                “You have a problem with that, _Companion_?” Aeiron returned the smirk, leaning a bit forward towards him with her hands on her hip. The general then turned on her heal and led the party of three out of Jorvaskr. Lucia ran to catch up with Aeiron and clasped her hand with the woman’s.

                “So, where _is_ your contract?”

                “Right here, in Whiterun.” Aeiron answered over her shoulder, once again admiring the Gildergreen as they passed by it.

                “Who do you have to deal with?”

                “Uthgerd the Unbroken.”

                Vilkas sighed nervously. Aeiron paused when they reached the stairs to the Plains District. “What?” Lucia tightened her grip on the woman’s hand.

                “There’s…something you should know about her.” Aeiron remained silent for him to continue. “She was to be a Companion once.” He watched as she widened her eyes slightly. “She was to intimidate someone, such as what you’re doing, but…”

                “She killed her target, didn’t she?”

                The Companion nodded quietly. “I think Farkas told you, but I’m saying this myself. Under _no_ circumstances are you to kill her.”

                “Vilkas.”

                “What?”

                “You saw what happened to Njada. I think I’ll be fine.” She started down the stairs once more, swinging her arm with Lucia’s and making the girl giggle.

                “But you’re bringing _her_ ,” he gestured towards the orphan. “with you!”

                “Which is why _you’re_ babysitting her. Now quit you’re whining Grumpy and let’s just get this over with already!”  Vilkas held the door open for them to the Bannered Mare and then walked in behind them. Aeiron nodded towards an older woman in Steel Plate armor sitting in the back drinking a tankard of mead. “That’s her.” She guided Lucia’s hand to hold Vilkas’ and quickly handed the man a small coin pouch. “Buy yourself and her something to eat and drink. On me.” She smiled at him before walking off.

                Aeiron approached with calculated steps, keeping her eyes on her target as she drew near. Uthgerd paused mid sip and slowly looked up at her with a glare. “And what do _you_ want?” she asked with a snarl.

                 The general crossed her arms and raised a disproving eyebrow at the older woman. “Word around Whiterun says that you’ve been harassing people.” The brunette nodded to the left while maintaining eye contact with the older woman. Uthgerd narrowed her eyes.

                “Did those _debilitated_ Companions  from Jorvaskr send you?”

                Aeiron paused for a moment to consider her answer before she gave it. “Yes,” she answered bluntly. “Yes, they _did_.”

                Vilkas watched as the scene dragged out from his seat at the bar and saw Uthgerd slowly rise from her seat after slamming her tankard on the table. He looked down at Lucia saw she had her eyes fixed on her mother figure. Not knowing what else to do, he guided her eyes away from the fight about to break out and towards their meals that had just arrived.

                “Last time I’m saying it: Back down, _now_.” Aeiron’s tone of voice grew cold and dark. The music in the inn stopped playing as onlookers began adding up in numbers. Uthgerd scoffed and rolled her eyes.

                “What’s a little thing like _you_ going to do? Hug me do death?” Some of the people in the inn laughed at the joke. Aeiron’s eyes had a slight glow to them as she bawled her fists.

                “Last. _Chance_.”

                “Or what?” she laughed as she grabbed the front of Aeiron’s uniform and hoisted her in the air. More laughter erupted from the patrons. Hulda sighed as she wiped the bar top.

                “ _Great_ ,” she muttered. “Another _fight_.” Hulda then cupped a hand around her mouth and shouted, “TEN SEPTEMS ON THE STORMCLOAK!”

                Right as the bar keeper shouted that, Aeiron butted her head against Uthgerd’s forehead. The older woman let her go and stumbled backwards, falling back and hitting the wall in the process. The general dusted herself off as she stood up, smirking and cracking her knuckles and she watched the older woman pick herself up. “Had enough?” Aeiron’s brogue was stronger as she yelled out in her anger.

                Uthgerd, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the fall and moved to punch the brunette. Her hearing seemed lost to the crowd’s loud whistles and cheers as she dodged and weaved between the warrior’s punches and hooks.

                _Right hook_ , _left jab, double punch, left uppercut._

                Every step that Aeiron took backwards led her towards the fire pit. She stepped around her opponent, dodging yet another punch. The table where Uthgerd had placed her drink down upon caught her sight and an idea popped into her mind. When she whirled her head around, the warrior had thrown another straight punch. Aeiron quickly grabbed her arm and pushed her elbow up with her other hand as hard as she could.

                Uthgerd screamed in pain as Aeiron hurled the woman over her shoulder, grunting loudly as her body went through the motion of using the older woman’s body weight against her. She fell right through the table where her drink had been. “GO AEIRON!” Lucia hollered at the top of her lungs over the crowd that was starting to die down now. The brunette clapped her hands in approval and nodded while grunting with satisfaction as she turned on her heel and walked towards the bar. Vilkas couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her approach. He turned back to his food before she could see him looking at her.

                Hulda frowned at the general, who in turn smiled sheepishly and fished out a larger coin purse and dropped it casually onto the bar counter. “Keep the change. One chocolate milk, if you please.”     

                The older woman smiled approvingly and took the coin purse before kneeling down and fishing out Aeiron’s special drink. Hulda placed the beverage onto the counter and then sighed. “I suppose you could bring her to the temple for me?”

                Aeiron smirked and picked up her drink, raising it in front of her mouth with a smirk before toasting her lightly. “Aye, I could.” 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late! I made the chapter longer than usual to hopefully make it up to you people uwu and happy belated Valentines day! :D

                “Well, that went well.” Aeiron looked over to the Companion as he mumbled the words while taking another sip of his ale. She smirked and shrugged.

                “A broken table is of little expense compared to what normally goes down in a fight.” Aeiron nervously chuckled at him with uneasy and amused eyes as she chugged down her second chocolate milk.

                Vilkas froze and raised a skeptical eyebrow at her with the bottle inches away from his lips. “Then _what_ in Shor’s blood do you normally do?”

                She giggled at the look on his face and shook her head. “I might be kicked out of Jorvaskr if I tell you.” She replied with a bright smile. The brunette raised her head and winked at him playfully and she watched as his eyebrows rose higher on his face while his irate face persisted. “So I can’t say.” Aeiron held a finger to her lips briefly before returning to her meal.

                He chuckled dryly and shook his head while smiling lightly, a bit amused. Maybe the alcohol was starting to get to him. He was only on his third…And then his eyes widened when he saw Uthgerd slowly rise from the pile of rubble.

                “So, did you behave Lucia?”

                The little girl hummed in reply while proudly nodding her head and smiling up at the brunette. Aeiron laughed and pulled the Imperial girl close, hugging her tightly with one arm. Vilkas turned his attention back to the general. She looked up and the grin faded from her face for a second as she nodded.

                She knew.

                She knew Uthgerd was coming back.

                But why wasn’t she doing anything?

                Wha—

                She was pushing away the little girl gently. “Why don’t you tell Vilkas about how _vicious_ you are with a dagger, hm?”

                Lucia looked up at her, a bit confused. She turned to look at the older man. His mouth was agape as he looked up from her to Aeiron. The brunette nodded her head smiled lightly.

                Ah, so _that_ was it.

                Vilkas pulled the little girl into his lap. “So, you can wield a dagger, eh?” he feigned a grin. His eyes were still cold, however. Lucia nodded eagerly and pulled out her dagger, black with green aura glowing from it where a crimson red should be.

                Another “modified” daedric weapon. _Joy_.

                “Aeiron made this for me! She says I’m special and it only works on special people!”

                Vilkas chuckled and rubbed the girl’s arm. “I’m sure you are. Tell me,” he lowered his head and spoke a bit lower. “have you _killed_ anything with it?”

                Lucia grinned brightly and giggled. “I’ve killed a few skeevers. Even a sabre cat!” 

                He deadpanned. And then he laughed nervously. “A—a sabre cat?”

                “Aye!” Lucia toyed with the dagger with a fond look in her eye as she recalled the memory. “Aeiron made me a _big_ dinner that night. We were going to Eastmarch since she had to stay in Windhelm for a few months because of Stormcloak business and all. And then this _big_ cat came out of no—”

                The sound of a bench being roughly pulled across the floor and some scuffling interrupted the nine year old. The pair turned to look and saw Uthgerd holding Aeiron in the air again. Her eyes laced with venom that seemed to create the snarls coming out of her mouth at that moment.

                Aeiron was merely glaring at her, fists clenched at the sides once more. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

                “Aeiron!” Lucia’s eyes were beginning to grow wet around the rims and she buried her head into Vilkas’s armored chest. He held her, tighter than he should have. He only met the girl today.

                “You’re next, you little—!”

                “YOU KEEP HER OUT OF THIS!” The Celt roared.  It was the loudest that he had ever heard Aeiron raise her voice. And the look on her face…It was the same one Kodlak had on his face when he was protecting himself and Farkas. And for an instant, Uthgerd was tempted to let her go and turn tail. Her anger boiled over higher than it had been before and her grip on the brunette’s throat tightened.

                “What’s the matter?” she sneered. “You were so talkative before, you bitch!” Aeiron was now clawing at the older woman’s hands, fighting to air as she wheezed.

                “Aei—” Vilkas began. She stopped him, however. The look in her eye made his blood run cold. And he was _never_ afraid.

                “I’ll be…fine.” She smiled lightly before returning her focus to the older warrior currently strangling her.  “Let’s take this outside, Uthgerd.” Her voice cracked as she strained whatever breath she could let out.

                The red head scoffed. “If you insist!”

                The door to the bannered mare had been obliterated by the brunette as she flew through it, her back roughly crashing against the stone well in the middle of the market place. Aeiron shook her head and groaned as she urged her stiff body to move.

                Uthgerd’s laughter pierced the silent air of spectators as she climbed through the rubble and stalked towards her, the grin on her face reminding her of a sabre cat stalking its prey. The guard by Belethor’s store rushed to her side, and tried to help her up. She brushed him off and rose to her feet with gritted teeth. “Are you alright?”

                “FINE.” She glared at the soldier and he instantly backed off. “Just keep the civilians safe. Don’t worry about me.”

                “A—aye ma’am.” He backed off as Uthgerd came closer. Aeiron stood on guard as the older woman paused a few feet from her.

                “You’re gonna be the one bleeding this time, Stormcloak!”

                “Whatever you say, _Doll Face_.” The general smirked as the tension in her back eased. Uthgerd came at her just like before with a right hook. Aeiron dodged. Left hook. She dodged again. The older woman’s attacks seemed more vicious, more desperate this time. And they were faster too. Aeiron’s pale skin was quickly becoming littered with black and blue marks covering her arms and legs.

                Aeiron ducked and landed a few blows to the old warrior’s head before dodging to the right. She grabbed Uthgerd in a vice, pinning her arm behind her back and kicking her towards the stairs to the Wind District. “Guards!” The brunette shouted. Five of them were among the red head within a matter of seconds.

                “Get off of me!” The old warrior tried to throw them off of her, but they restrained her. She growled and glared at Aeiron, who in turn sent a cheeky smile the old woman’s way. “Take her to the temple. She’s got a sprained arm and a few Knicks and bruises.

                “And what about you, Ma’am?” one of the shoulders asked as they passed her by.

                Aeiron shrugged and patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll be fine, Soldier. Thanks for the concern, but I’ll be fine.”  And as soon as the soldier left, she winced at the pain in her back. Dammit. Maybe Lydia could take a look at it. Her head felt fuzzy too. It also ached. Steel plate armor _sure_ does hurt.

                She slowly lowered herself to the ground, leaning against the well and clasping her hands together while lowering her head to her hands. Aeiron exhaled through puckered lips and looked around and through the open doorway inside the Bannered Mare. Vilkas and Lucia were no longer inside. She scoffed and shook her aching head.

                They must have made their way to Jorvaskr while Aeiron was being walloped by Uthgerd. Hulda then entered the shattered doorway with her hands on her hips and a scowl that could rival Vilkas’. “You had _better_ be paying for this, Aeiron!”

                The general grinned tiredly and waved the barkeeper off. “Put it on my tab, Hulda.” Aeiron rose and waved at the older woman over her shoulder before walking up the steps towards the Wind District herself. The sun was gradually sinking in the colorful sky and the scent of the blossoms from the Gildergreen welcomed her as they normally did. She lowered herself onto the bench facing Jorvaskr and sighed lightly as she leaned against the back of the bench.

                Aeiron looked up and saw one blossom trickling down in the air. She grabbed it as it fluttered towards the ground and fiddled with it in her hand, fingers spinning the stem attached to the flower. A bitter smile at the fond recollection of her father sticking one in her hair the first time they came to Whiterun replayed itself in her mind. He said she looked beautiful and kissed the top of her head while she giggled lightly and hugged him. She was seven at the time.  

                He did the same thing when they returned to Skyrim after Helgen. That was seven years ago. Aeiron scoffed bitterly and threw leaned forward while letting her wrists cross. The only thing people saw her as was intimidating, scary, and short; and childish even, if you asked the right person.

                She leaned back on the bench and closed her eyes with a longing breath leaving her nostrils. Everything was floating away now. Her troubles, duties, people she surrounded herself with; they were all slithering away into the brink of the warm and fuzzy darkness that was overtaking her.

                And before she knew it, she was asleep with a sad smile on her face.

* * *

 

                Skyrim’s northern regions never had kind conditions, especially during the winter when the winds would howl as loud as a pack of wolves and the biting chill could cut through the toughest of armors. Winter never ends in this desert of cold and snow, something very few can endure, Nord blooded or not. He realized this a long time ago the first time he passed through this barren wasteland.

                The old man climbed up the hill of snow with as much energy needed as if the snow and cold were now around him. The furs that cascaded down on either side of his body flapped in the wind and his hood was unable to keep out the snow that assaulted his face and almost blinded him. He used his hand as a visor to scan his surroundings.

                He knew he wasn’t alone. They had been tailing him for miles now. And it was only a matter of time before they revealed themselves to him. He whispered a word that was lost to the raging winds that only now seemed to show weakness and die down slowly. A handful of red blobs pierced through the storm and burned into his eyes. The aura continued shining a bright blazing red as it flickered through the blinding snow. The old man breathed through his numb nostrils. Breath left him in puffs of hot air which he greedily sucked in loudly as a horse would. He was tired, but had plenty of energy, despite his age.

                So he continued. The howling filled his ears and the snow still hindering his keen vision. The red aura continued to glow around him in the form of bodies; live ones that were still continuing to move in. The old man paused and pulled down his hood, thin and silver hairs in the side part he wore blowing profusely. A sharp intake of breath through his mouth and he opens his eyes again to find that he can see through the onslaught of snow, and he can see that his pursuers are a group of around five Thalmor Justicars.

                An arrow whizzed through the air and pierces through the chainmail of his left arm. The old horse groans in pain as his nerves over react. He looks up again, head turning quickly to find that they are surrounding him. The old man pushes his tongue against inside of his mouth, bearing three gold front teeth and death in his eyes.

                He broke the elven arrow and threw the rest of it away, lost to the storm. His hands slowly unsheathed both of his dragonbone war axes that he wore on either side. He closed his eyes once more, taking in a deep breath from the frigid air around him.

                One of the Thalmor agents readied an arrow and aimed it at the seventy one year old. His eyes shot open were glowing bright green, scanning the enemy around him. “Give it up, old man!” She yells tauntingly with an impish smirk he can barely see through the storm. “You’re surrounded! And you’re well past your prime!” One footstep crunched in the snow behind him, and then he moved, galloping off like a horse at the start of a race.

                He was a blur as he sliced through the gilded armor and right through the chest of one male High Elf. Another tried swinging her sword at him from his right. He countered and deflected the blade towards her before slicing through her abdomen and then through her upper chest with the other axe. He rolled to the left and then sliced upwards with his right arm, the left swinging down to decapitate the Thalmor agent.

                Another arrow was shot at him. He dodged to the right, the arrow within an inch or two of his body before he turned towards the archer and jumping up, swinging his left axe into the archer’s chest and then rolling off of his back.

                “DIE!” a voice screamed from behind him. 

                The old man quickly turned his head to look at the mage firing up an electric charge at him, and then looked to his right to see another Justiciar running towards him.  He leaned to the left and dodged the swinging of the elf’s sword before swinging his arm and cutting through the golden armor to embed itself into the bone of the High Elf’s shoulder blade. He then quickly spun around to cut through the elf once more as he was falling with his opposite hand.

                Rods of lightening shot past the old man and he turned his body to see the mage firing up another shot at him. He faced him, eyeing the other Thalmor soldier from his peripheral vision before looking back at the High Elf wizard. The soldier had an arrow aimed at him as she and the wizard paced around him in a circle, stepping over the corpses of their fallen and into the footprints they left.

                The snow, however, was already covering their tracks and soaking up the freshly spilt blood.

* * *

 

                “Aeiron!”

                Whoever was calling her, they were nudging at her arm and pushing her lightly. The brunette groaned and swatted away their hand.

                “Aeiron, wake up!”

                “I heard you the first time, Lydia.” She groaned.

                “Then get _up_!”

                Aeiron batted her eyes and rubbed her hands down her face to wake herself up. She looked up at her Housecarl and sighed, getting up with a much better back.  She looked around a bit and then turned back to the black haired woman with a small frown while raising an eyebrow at her. “Where’s Lucia?”

                “I brought her home a few minutes ago. It’s seven in the evening. The Companions are having dinner right now, or should be finishing up by now.”

                The general nodded and smiled tiredly. “Thanks.” She walked past the older woman and then up the stairs to Jorvaskr. When she was far enough, Lydia released the breath she had been holding and crossed her arms, staring intently at the general’s back.

                Aeiron entered the mead hall quietly, and was greeted by Farkas’ laughter and one of the man’s squishing bear hugs. She couldn’t help as she returned it. “Hi, Farkas!”

                “We heard about what happened earlier.” He smiled and offered her a jug of chocolate milk. She took it immediately and popped the cap off.

                “I’m pretty sure all of Whiterun knows.” She sighed bitterly with an amused smile up at the older man before taking a quick swig of her drink.

                Farkas barked with laughter and gave her a swat on the back. Aeiron visibly cringed and groaned lightly but shrugged off the man’s confused look. “I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.” The brunette laughed sheepishly and followed him to the long table.  “From what Vilkas said, he seemed pretty impressed.”

                She froze and blinked her eyes up at him. “ _Vilkas_ told you what had happened.”

                Farkas chuckled. “He and Lucia. She was here for a while. Aela showed her how to use a bow and arrow.”

                “Lucia already knows how to shoot.” Aeiron smirked.

                “Yeah, she showed us when she hit the target dead center most of the time.”

                She laughed at him and raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding?”

                “Wish I was. She put _me_ to shame with it.” Farkas pursed his lips and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. The brunette threw her head back and laughed louder this time. She stopped abruptly and looked up at the wolf twin again. “Speaking of which, where is he?”

                “Vilkas?”

                She nodded lightly.

                Farkas jutted his thumb towards the staircase. “In his room. Probably scowling as usual.”

                They both chuckled and Aeiron began heading towards the staircase. “Thanks, Farkas.”

                He watched her for a moment, swallowing before he spoke up again. “Aeiron.”

                “Hmm?” She turned to look at him over her shoulder before turning to face him at the foot of the staircase.

                “Lydia…do you think would want to…Uhh, do you think—"

                Aeiron smiled widely at him. “I’m sure she would, Farkas.” Her face turned to mock seriousness as she raised a finger at him. “But _you_ have to ask her. I can’t do it for you.”

                He chuckled lightly and nodded. “Got it.”

                Aeiron smiled back at him and walked down into the living quarters.

* * *

 

                Vilkas heard a knock at his bedroom door and looked up from the book he was reading. “What is it?” He sighed, clearly annoyed as he scrutinized the door.

                “You just had dinner and you’re _still_ in a foul mood. How amusing. Can I come in?” It was Aeiron, and she sounded tired.  The Companion stared at the door for a moment, blinking before answering.

                “No.”

                “Too bad.” The door opened suddenly, quietly as it swung open to reveal Aeiron moving to lean against the doorframe. “I picked the lock.”

                Vilkas replied with something that was a mix between a growl and another exasperated sigh. He was tempted to use the book in his hand as live ammo and chuck at the brunette smug face. But then again, it would be a waste of a good book since she would walk off with it and he would be missing yet _another_ book. He really needs to straighten things out with Farkas over this “loaning” policy he has with him.

                “I would give you a prize, but as you can see, I don’t have one.”

                Aeiron laughed, genuinely this time. “Can I take an I.O.U?”

                Vilkas’ lips twitched into a smile as he looked down at the book and pretended to be blocking her out. “Maybe.” Aeiron stared at him for a moment, noticing that his armor was neatly piled on a nearby chair and that he wore a simple buckled tunic and pants, slippers by the side of his bed. She smiled at him lightly before walking further into the room.

                She strolled in without his permission and eyed the room. He looked up at her again and noticed she was out of her usual armor and now wearing her usual night shirt with a pair of pants that cut off at her knees. Vilkas watched as she strolled over to the bookcase and leaned up on her tiptoes to eye the titles on the higher shelves of his bookcase. Aeiron turned to look at him and took a few steps closer towards him. “What’cha reading?”

                He wordlessly held up the book while continuing to read it. She smirked when she read the title. It was an old play that was usually performed in Cyrodiil. She read it in school and loathed it, but it came in handy along with the other titles she read when she wanted to prove a point in an argument. As opposed to most of the people in Skyrim, she liked to read as a pastime.

                “This above all,” she began. “to thine ownself be true.” Vilkas stopped reading and slowly looked up at her. “And it must follow, as the night the day. Thou canst not then be false to any man.”

                Vilkas blinked at her a few times before grinning approvingly and leaning against the headboard of his bed. “Well,” he mused. “It looks like you know _Hamlet_.”

                “Growing up in Cyrodiil has it’s advantages.” She replied casually, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. The Companion scooted over a bit to allow her more room.

                “Do you bite your thumb at us, Sir?” he smirked, putting the book on the nightstand as he kept his eyes on her.

                “Hmm?” She blinked at him for a moment. The wheels in her head then began turning and her face lit up. “OH!” she smacked her leg a few times while looking up at the ceiling before grinning and looking back at Vilkas.

                “I do bite my thumb, Sir.”

                “Do you bite your thumb at _us,_ sir?” He raised a thick eyebrow at her while crossing his arms.

                “Is the law on my side if I say ay?”

                Vilkas scowled mockingly and replied with a dejected tone, “No.”

                “No, sir, I do not bite your thumb at you, but I bite my thumb sir.” Aeiron was having a hard time holding back her laughter. Vilkas could tell, and he may have been just as elated as she was.

                “Do you quarrel, sir?”

                Aeiron ended it with her laughter and shaking her head. “No, I came here on friendly terms. I just wanted to thank you for looking after Lucia today.”

                The grin on Vilkas’ face faded, but the amusement still lingering in his eyes as he sighed depressingly. “You shouldn’t have brought her.”

                “She works there for her meals when I’m away. I wanted to make sure she didn’t have a problem with Uthgerd while I was away.”

                “So you beat the shit out of her.”

                “Hey, to be fair she landed a few blows on me.” Aeiron gestured to the bruises covering her legs and arms.

                “How are you not feeling those?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

                “Who said I’m not?” She smirked at him and then got up off of the bed. “I should probably go back to my bed now.”

                Vilkas nodded and stared after her as she moved to leave. “Aeiron.” He called.

                “What?” she turned to look at him. The Companion quickly rolled onto his side and pulled out a Minor Potion of Healing from his nightstand and then tossed it to her.

                “The bruises will go away faster.”

                Aeiron looked at the potion in her hand before looking back up at Vilkas. She smiled lightly at him, beaming as she walked through the doorway.   

                “Looks like you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

                “…” He kept staring after her.

                “Night, Grumpy.” She waved at him with the back of her hand as she left his room and closed the bedroom door. Vilkas picked up the play that he had been reading earlier and then looked up at the closed door before smirking to himself and then opening the book where he had left off.

                


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait! But truthfully, the only reason why this update is coming is because I've had time to work on it since I'm currently on break. So yeah...let me know what you guys think? Especially at one part (You'll know it when you see it c: )

                It was one of those nights where sleep would elude him, tease and tantalize him as it ducked and weaved away from his grasp just as it was right within his reach. And then it was also on nights like these with the moons that were glowing a shade mimicking sanguine that his beast would bark and howl and stir inside him.

                There was no rest; not with the wolf lurking about. Vilkas would probably have a better disposition towards people if he actually got adequate sleep. But he didn’t.

                The Companion rolled from one side to the other. The furs that he would use to cover himself with on chilly nights were on the floor a few feet away and his lose pants clung to him with his sweat being the glue. He painfully got up, slowly bringing his feet down to the stone ground and held his hands in his sweaty palms. The breath that he heaved out smelled of blood. The thrill of the hunt was getting to him.

                Everyone else would be surely asleep at this point. Silence answered his question as he moved towards his bedroom door and peered out into the hallway; no one was there.

                Vilkas sighed, half from annoyance and the other part relief as he slowly walked upstairs. For a brief second he thought Aeiron would be upstairs reading again. The wolf growled in consent at the thought. Vilkas shook his head forcefully, trying to clear his aching mind.

                And then his feet came to an abrupt halt outside the Whelp’s room. He wasn’t controlling his body as he walked inside the room, snoring and drooling bodies that mocked him as they were off in dreamland while he wasn’t. His eyes shifted tiredly from one occupied bed to the next, taking in the Whelps and naming them as his eyes landed upon them. And then he came to a vacant bed on the far right side of the room.

Aeiron wasn’t there.

                Vilkas found himself staring at her bed, wondering if she had run off again. The woman seemed to lack an off-switch; too much energy for one person to handle. And then in his hazy state of mind, he seemed to have teleported to the patio area out back, being greeted by a cool breeze traveling down the wind district. The auroras dancing above caught his eye as he stepped out from underneath the wooden beams and out to the training yard; flickering lights of gold, red, and green ribbon glimmered above. His wolf was forgotten for a moment as he eyed them in awe. And for a moment, all of his troubles and worries were carried off of his back and down through Whiterun with the passing wind.  

                When was the last time he appreciated the view?

                “Can’t sleep?” A voice called out. He recognized its owner before he turned around and faced her.

                Aerion was sitting on the roof of the mead hall, legs swinging gently as another light breeze drifted by. He looked towards a nearby table and saw her discarded weapon and gauntlets lying on the wooden surface.

                Vilkas turned back towards Aeiron and stared at her for a moment before scowling deeply. “What are you doing up there?” he growled almost.

                “I couldn’t sleep either.” The Celt replied calmly as she looked him in the eye. She looked up at the stars above them whimsically, deep in thought.

                “You shouldn’t be up there.” He almost snapped at her, patience growing thin. His hands were forming fists at his side and his lack of sleep was forgotten.

                Vilkas only received silence as a response as she continued gazing at the auroras above them. Their glows illuminated her face in the dark, and he could see her slightly nervous face, smell the feint scent of fear lingering off of her. His wolf barked in urgency. The Companion only gritted his teeth.

                “Why don’t you come up here?” Aeiron finally asked. The wind was picking up again and her loose hair blew behind her carefree, just like the rest of her as she smiled down at him. “The view’s quite lovely!”

                The wolf narrowed his eyes at her. He was superior to her in rank at Jorrvaskr! Why wasn’t she listening?

                “How about you come down?” Vilkas spat out through gritted teeth. She looked down at him and saw the way her eyes widened ever so slightly. He could smell her fear again. He waited a moment, swallowing harshly and getting ready to rip her down from Jorrvaskr’s roof when she nodded and slowly began her descent back to normal ground.

                She landed on her feet silently, brushing her lose fitting tunic top off and then slowly walking over to the Companion. He could hear her heart beat faster as the general approached. It echoed in his ears and wouldn’t stop beating like a battle drum. But maybe it was his heart beating that furiously.

                “When I left you, you seemed to have a smile on your face,” Aeiron sighed with a tired smile on her face. “But now it seems you’re irritable as ever, Vilkas.” Her smile faced as she blinked and stared into his eyes. Vilkas narrowed his eyebrows at her and gave her a pointed glare.

“What?”

His eyes had a tint of amber to them.

“You…” Aerion paused to inhale a shaky breath. “You’re a lycanthrope, aren’t you?”

                His hand snatched her wrist faster than she could comprehend what was happening. Aeiron saw his silver irises glow an increasingly bright gold as the seconds counted off in her head .

                "You no nothing, girl," he growled. She Aeiron maintained eye contact through some divine power and exhaled calmly.

                "I know enough to understand self-loathing." She fought back. Typical. The bitch would never learn, now would she?

                Her eyes shimmered for a moment, as if they were becoming wet, but Vilkas cut her off from what she was about to say next.

                "You know nothing!" Vilkas was roaring at her. The grip he had on her wrist tightened and she winced visibly, her jaw drew into a deadlock.

                He could hear her heart rate increase rapidly. And deep down, they both knew that some sick part of him was enjoying this. Vilkas' other hand went to her throat and firmly wrapped around the smaller woman's neck. Her neck muscles rippled as she sucked in a hasty breath, much to the wolf's satisfaction.

                "You act as if you have everything and everyone figured out, but you don't! You dare to waltz into Jorrvaskr and think that a few sparring matches is enough for you to be considered one of us. Well, it isn't!"

                It was getting harder and harder for the brunette to breathe. Vilkas was only strengthening his grip on her as she stared at his golden eyes. Aeiron gave him a pointed glare as her hands slowly rose to wrap around his.

                "If you think I'm here to stab you in the back with a silver dagger like the Silver Hand do, then you are gravely mistaken."

                She watched the way he froze, the way his face lost the harsh and pointed lines to it as he stared disbelieving at her. Aeiron swallowed nervously before nodding her head. "Kodlak told me what’s going on the day I arrived here. About the Silver Hand, about how the Circle is a pack of werewolves, and about _you_ ; about how restless you get and it overwhelms you to the point where you snap at people.” Aeiron sucked in as much air as she could at this point. His grip was tightening on her airways.

                “You're partial to me, probably even hate me more than the Whelps, Forsworn, and Silver Hand put together on some days, but I don't stab people in the back." The brunette choked out the last words, the air in her chest was running scarce.

The wolf was howling for blood, and how could he say no?

                It was only then he noticed her bandaged hands trying to pry his fingers loose of her neck as she gasped for air. Blood filled his nostrils when he saw the dried crimson splotches on her hands. He couldn't help but want to squeeze the life out of her. "Vilkas..." Her hands began slipping. "Please, stop."

                Reality came crashing down at him as his hands suddenly released her. Aeiron landed in her toes, gasping loudly for air as she wrapped one hand around her neck. Her eyes were glued at the man's feet as a multitude of emotions threatened to knock her flat on her back.

                Aeiron swallowed and looked up at Vilkas. She could almost instantly spot the fear in his otherwise hardened face. He looked down at his shaking hands, sweaty palms with twitching fingers.

                "My uncle was the same way," she panted out. The Companion looked down at her, blinking a few times and narrowing his eyes at her. "Though he was killed when I was young. The Silver hand got to him..." She straightened up and stretched her back slightly. "He..." Aeiron paused again as she looked down at the ground. "Would've been a Celt..."

                He kept his gaze fixed on her for another long and winding moment before beginning to walk past her at a hurried pace. "Wait." Aeiron's voice was quiet as she gently gripped his arm. Vilkas came to an abrupt stop and then sharply turned around to sneer at the smaller woman. He was surprised when she didn't look back at him in fear, or at all for that fact.

                "Don't hate yourself for what it is you are not." She whispered and then let her hand slip from his arm and back down to her side. Vilkas stared at her for a bit, then turned on his heel and stormed back inside.

                Aeiron didn't fall onto her knees until she heard the door slam behind her. The thought of staying clear of Jorrvaskr for a few days was a tempting one, but the Whelps could wind up next if she weren't around.

So she decided to stay.

                The brunette looked up at the auroras that were now flickering away with the rising sun. Standing up and watching as the twilight hours of the morning arrived, Aeiron wondered if maybe this is how Lydia felt when she lashed out at her.

                Aeiron looked down at her hands, studying the drying blood and how it hurt to flex her fingers, pain rippling through her in waves. She realized that she was truly good for nothing except ruining lives in some way, shape, or form.

                The tears finally rolled down her face as she choked the sob that was threatening to come out of her. Crying was for the weak. And she couldn’t be weak. Not with so many people riding on her; the _Dovahkiin,_ the _Dragonborn_ , _Stormblade, Thane_ ; Never little Miss Leon-Croí who was on a frantic goose chase for her possibly dead father…or was he already dead?

                The girl couldn’t help but wish if they only knew, but she knew the consequences of them having some insight on her. So she couldn’t. Even Lydia only knew so much.

                She wiped her scarce tears as she sucked in a shaky breath. Aeiron looked at her right hand, watched as the fingers curled into a tight fist before hitting herself upside the head. She ignored the throbbing headache that was causing the ringing now in her head. She was used to it by now.  

“Get it together, Milk drinker!” she hissed under breath.

                The general slowly forced herself to stand, looking around to make sure no one was around to see her. A sigh left her when she saw she was alone. She quickly slipped on her gauntlets over her injured hands, wincing when she was too rough in one particular spot. Aeiron grabbed her battle axe blindly with her right hand and slid it into its sheath on her back.

                The sun was rising, and the Jarl said he had some “official business” for her and Ralof to see to. Aeiron turned to see the where the daylight was rising from and stared at the morning sun for a moment before smirking and making her way towards Dragonsreach. The captain would be meeting her in an hour and she wouldn’t want to be late.

* * *

 

                From the staircase leading to the Jarl’s palace, Aeiron could see Whiterun slowly rise from its slumber and to wake with the new day as the sun rose. The vendors were always at their stands at eight o’clock, the civilians by nine. She sat on the stairs with her hands cupping her face, clearly showing how annoyed she was right now.

                Ralof was running late. He was supposed to be there two hours ago.  

                And much to her boredom, she came up with a list of possible reasons and or excuses to which may be the case this time around:

-Danica may be taking her time and making sure that Ralof is indeed suited for duty again

-Ralof slept in late and Danica may be checking him over one last time

-Ralof is _still_ asleep

-He could have sneaked by her by swimming in the pool of water underneath the stairs, sneaked past her with assassin skills in which she still topped him by a longshot, and entered Dragonsreach without being detected

...the third option seemed the most likely.

 _And speaking of which_ …

                Aeiron let out a loud yawn, similar to how a large cat would before clicking her mouth a few times and raising her arms to stretch.

                “General!”

                Aeiron opened her eyes and blinked a few times, slowly lowering her arms as she spotted Ralof running towards her, almost running into a few pedestrians and patrolling guards. She had to stifle a laugh as she stood to meet him. It would be unprofessional otherwise, but that didn’t stop her from grinning widely. “Where’ve you been, Captain?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she shook his hand. “I was ready to start the riff rioting without you!”

                The man laughed breathlessly, hand over his heart as he bent forward to catch his breath. “I had to get a few things from Eorlund.” He answered as he straightened up. “He wanted to see me before we saw Vignar.”

                “Right…” Aeiron spoke up quietly. The _only_ possibility she hadn’t considered. She shook her head quickly and nodded towards him to walk with her up the stairs. Ralof followed with a smile beaming on his face.

                As they approached the doors to the palace, Aeiron came to an abrupt halt in her tracks. Halfway through the door, the Captain turned to look at her, face scrunching into bewilderment. His mouth opened, as if he were about to speak, but another guard beat him to the punch when he looked up.

                “DRAGON!”

                “One bloody day,” the general muttered to herself as she unsheathed her battleaxe and rolled her lower lip over her jaw as she looked up at the approaching giant fire-breathing lizard. “I can’t have _one_ _bloody DAY_ off, now can I!” Aeiron shook her fist up at the dragon as she yelled at it. Right after the words left her mouth, fire came hurdling her way. Her eyes widened as she ran into the palace and pressed her back against the section of wall behind one of the doors.

                The burst of flames ended and the dragon flew off to the more densely populated Wind District. Aeiron looked up at Ralof for a moment, exchanging a glance between him before nodding with a smirk on her face. “Get everyone to safety; preferably here!” she ordered as she ran out the door.

                “On it, Stormblade!” Ralof shouted in response, having to cup his hands just to make sure she heard him as she raced down the stairs, battleaxe in front of her and her feet carrying her at almost inhuman speeds. He turned to a guard standing by. “You heard the woman! Let’s get everyone in here!”

                Aerion skidded to a stop by the foot of the stairs, seeing a discarded shield by a dropped sword. She looked up at the dragon, now circling over Jorrvaskr, before smirking to herself and sheathing her battleaxe. Upon further inspection, the shield was fairly light and had a bit of an edge to it. The shouts of other guards and the Companions in the training area broke her thought bubble and she began to sprint again.

                Aela and Vilkas were aiming as many arrows at it as they possibly could, missing nine out of ten times due to the dragon’s evasive flying. Farkas stood with his sword drawn, ready to carve the dragon to pieces the second it landed in front of him.

                The dragon was preparing to shout again, opening its mouth to release the thu’um that was building up in its core. It looked down at its prey, inwardly pleased for having luring so many pieces of food in one area. Humans were indeed, stupid.

                “YO—”

                A shield then sliced through the air and hit him square in the jaw.

                “Did you _not_ get the memo about Alduin being dead or something?!”

                The Companions turned to see Aeiron after she had just skidded to another stop, panting lightly while reaching for her weapon again as she glared up at the dragon.

                “You dragons are _supposed_ to be loyal to me now. But _NOOOOO._ I have to deal with you bird-brained, overgrown lizards threatening to destroy Whiterun and Divines know where—SHIT!”

                “YOL!”

                Another wild flame burned through the air, right towards the Dragonborn, who was standing right in the open. She wasn’t ready with a counter shout just in case, either.

                “Ah, shit.” The words left her mouth as soon as she heard the dragon shout, but didn’t realize that she was about to be cooked alive when it came racing towards her.

                On the other hand, she was tackled out of the way by something with enough force to possibly kill a bear upon impact. How she survived is a complete mystery. Aeiron’s back hit metal and then her arms and knees scrapped the cobblestone of the ground. It took another second to realize that another person was responsible for the assault.

                She looked over her shoulder to see Vilkas’ cold eyes staring at her almost impassively; she could barely make out the underlying concern in his eyes. Aeiron bit her tongue; the smile that wanted to come out on her face wavered; halted in its tracks.   

                And then she let herself grin.

                “Glad to see you bear no hard feelings towards me, Grumpy. Speaking of which, that’s what that felt like… _ow_.”

                Vilkas got off of her wordlessly, extending a hand to help pull her up. She took it graciously and looked up at his face again. He was looking away, but a smirk was tugging at the corner of his lips.

                “Vilkas!”

                He turned on his heel just in time to catch his greatsword that Farkas had tossed effortlessly towards him. Aeiron righted herself just as he fixed his grip on his weapon. Vilkas turned to look down at her, seeing her smirk playfully. And suddenly the wolf was howling in his head for a completely different reason. He didn’t get the chance to ask what in Oblivion that look was for before she winked at him and started swinging her arms wildly.

                “Hey! Shit For Brains! Over here!” she hollered. The dragon stopped circling in the air again and looked down at the brunette as he hovered in the air. He watched as the Dovahkiin took off running away from Jorrvaskr and towards the Plains District. Unable to refuse the challenge, the dragon followed his prey eagerly.

                Aeiron sheathed her weapon to run faster, now at full speed as she sprinted past the gates of the city and vaulted over the wall, rolling out onto the rocky plains and still continuing to run. Ralof was already there with a small group of soldiers, ready for the attack. Aeiron smirked breathlessly and skidded to a stop in front of them, drawing her weapon just as the dragon cried out, getting ready to attack. Another shout by the fire breather was on its way.

                “Joor Zah Frul!” The general quickly shouted. The dragon’s wings were immediately rendered useless and it came crashing down onto the ground. “Now!”

                The soldiers began their assault on the dragon with the general leading the assault. She climbed on its head, slicing both eyes with her axe before jumping up and bringing down the blade as hard as she could. It was dead within a matter of seconds afterwards.

                It never ceased to amaze people when she absorbed a soul with its swirling light display surrounding her, illuminating her soul, and showing the Celtic spirit that resided in her; a small light blue flame right where her heart was.

                “Ralof,” she called the captain over towards her.

                “Aye, Stormblade?”

                “Can you or some of the guys bring a cart over here?”

                The Captain raised an eyebrow.

                “I’m about ready to pass out,” she answered.

                “Ah,” he chuckled in light amusement, shaking his head lightly. “How about we walk you back instead and you pass out in a bed?”

                Aeiron smiled up at him as he raised one of her arms and let it wrap around his shoulders. “Sounds good,” she replied with a loud yawn. She vaguely recalled someone else wrapping her other arm around their shoulders before blacking out.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not updating in a while, my computer screen broke and writing on an iPod is not entirely the best experience! I made this chapter a bit longer in order to hopefully satisfy you wonderful readers. Seriously, I love you all. You guys are what motivate me to even attempt to write my shitty ideas out :D I also want to apologize for any typos. I had to run around in circles on my mom's dinosaur of a computer from the early 2000s in order to post this!  
> So until next time!

Aeiron slowly blinked her eyes open to see pitch black surrounding her. In the darkness she could barely make out the outline of the tall trees looming over the ground while crickets chirped aloud and Kyne continued breathing steadily and silently as the night progressed.

She looked towards the moon in the corner if her eye; the pale light barely casting an illuminating glow on the crowns of the ancient pines and spruces of the forest. Aeiron groaned when she felt every sore muscle in her body scream aloud all at once when she shifted a bit on impulse. Damn dragons...

The Celt forced herself to stand up and pushed herself to use her arms and legs properly. There was nothing else besides her shuffling as she stood. Her instincts screamed with alarm. That gut feeling surfaced from within, which meant only one thing; something was lurking in the shadows of the forest.

Aeiron narrowed her eyes and directed them to the shadows in front of her. She let them then slowly drifts to the left. She shifted her feet as she turned her body while her hand reached for her batteaxe and slowly drew it from the sheath on her back. The Celt finally stopped her pacing and cemented her feet to the ground when her heart contracted as a pulse ripped through her senses. The pupils of her eyes narrowed and became more jaded with the frown on her face deepening. She gritted her teeth and bared her now sharper canines. A chilly and forceful wind blew through. The trees began rocking in its wake as it passed through briskly.

A low growl came from the thicket of trees. It rippled through the air, collided against the woman, and finally fanned out in waves. Aeiron tightened her grip on the handle of her battleaxe. The grass in the shadows began rustling with familiar heavy and slow steps. The Celt blinked and her frown fell as her eyes widened; it was a friend.

A figure emerged from the darkness with a mane and fur white as snow and eyes the same color as the Celt's. The lion stopped; it stared at her passively before harrumphing quietly as it licked with nose with its tongue as it lied down. Aeiron narrowed her eyes gently, blinking a few times as she sheathed her battleaxe slowly; her eyes never left the beast's.

"Haven't seen you in a while..." She mused quietly as she lowered her hands back down to their side. The lion kept staring back at her and then yawned loudly. Aeiron gave the beast a pointed look and caustically sighed in response. "If you're really that tired, shouldn't you be asleep then?" She raised an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips to emphasize her statement.

The white lion blinked tiredly before getting up and slowly stalked over towards her. Aeiron instinctively raised her hand to pet the animal as the lion brushed up against her. She let the lion pace around her before stopping at her side. It sat down next to her and licked its nose as it looked up at her.

"... _What?_ " She inquired, and yet again gave the beast an attitude. The lion narrows it's eyes at her and growled in reply. Aeiron raised both of her hands and pursed her lips defensively as the lion strolled off. It paused after a couple of steps and turned around to look at her curiously. Aeiron followed without a second thought. It turned around and continued walking ahead.

" _Laas_ ," She whispered as they approached the darkness. There was nothing except for the lion ahead of her glowing blood red. Aeiron began to take off her gauntlets and cast them aside on the ground. "Where are we going?" The Celt asked calmly. She reached up to the bear claws on her shoulders and undid the fastenings. The pelt slid off her back and fell into the darkness.

Running water flowed a ways as they came closer. They reached a clearing where moonlight pooled in from above and shimmered on the river. Aeiron stopped at the edge of the clearing and watched the lion as it approached the riverbank. It sat down lazily and turned back to look at the Celt. The woman swallowed walked with lead feet to the river's edge.

Aeiron stared at the river with the pitch-black water running downstream; she couldn't see the bottom or hear anything except for the water and the lion's steady breathing. She reached for the buckle of her leather sheath and let her battleaxe crash down to the ground behind her.

Chills erupted on her spine and her hands burned as if they were on fire. She winced through gritted teeth and raised her bandaged hands to look at them; her limbs were swollen with very red and very warm blood seeping out of some fresh wounds and staining the wraps bound around her hands, fingers, and halfway up to her forearms.

"So glad you could join us, Aeiron." A distinct voice spoke up. The brunette turned around to see a mask of a white stag atop the head of the Prince of the Hunt; the Daedric Lord Hircine himself. The breath catches in her throat as she stares at his majesty. Her white lion slowly gets up and walks to her side, sitting next to the Celt.

"Hircine," Aeiron's voice is barely a whimper now. The air suddenly becomes much cooler now that she can hear his slow and long breaths against the bone of his mask. She frowns and now feels almost completely vulnerable. "...What're you doing here?"

"In the days that follow, you will be tested. I come bearing a gift," the prince replied; his hand extended to his side and out of the air fell an amulet.

Aeiron squinted her eyes to see the shape of the trinket; eyes widening when she recognized it. "Yes," Hircine spoke up as her lips began to quiver in terror. "Your Celtic sign; a lion. It will help you find him, as any others left in Skyrim..."

She gritted her teeth at the last statement. "Why are you helping me?"

Hircine chuckled and threw the amulet towards her. She caught it effortlessly with her right hand and then opened up her palm to look at the Titanium-carved gift.

"My dear," the prince spoke up again. "Everything comes with a price."

Aeiron looked up at him and closed her fist around the amulet again. "Then what is mine?"

Hircine chuckled. Chills went up her spine. Drums began blaring in her head. Aeiron cried out and clutched her head; felt it throb in her hands. The lion next to her roared and tried to drag her away from the Daedric lord, but she couldn't escape his laughter that rang through the air, just as a steeple bell would on a rainy day.

She blacked out again, this time feeling her body being jostled and a voice shouting for her. "Aeiron!"

* * *

Aeiron woke up with a start and nearly threw Lucia off of the bed. She saw the little girl falling off of the side of the bed just in time and grabbed her wrist to yank her back up. Lucia fell into her mother's chest and felt her arms wrap around her while resting her head on the woman's heaving chest. The Imperial girl hugged her back and mumbled, "Had a bad dream, Máthair?"

Lucia heard the woman chuckle lightly before she felt a hand stroke her head affectionately. "Yeah," she answered. "I saw a frost troll trying to juggle while wearing a  _dress_!"

Aeiron snickered when she looked down to see the nine year old shudder in response. "Oh gods," the little girl murmured before looking up at the general.

"How long have I been out?" Aeiron stretched with her joints and muscles cracking and popping as she flexed unused and aching parts of her body.

"A couple of days," The child replied, now wearing a wide smile on her face. "Lydia said that you should be awake by now and not spending your days asleep."

The lioness laughed abruptly and grinned while lowing a hand atop the girl's head to mess up her dirty blonde hair. "Figures she would say that," the general remarked. She looked about the room curiously. "Speaking of which," Aeiron spoke up again. "Where is she?"

"She had errands to run in town today," Lucia replied while swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I think she mentioned something about stopping at Jorrvaskr." She scrunched up her face and stared at the ceiling before looking back at her mother. "Not sure, though."

Aeiron watched the girl hop off of the bed sleepily before speaking up again. "What time is it?"

"A little after eleven." The girl promptly answered again. Aeiron sighed and slowly got up and off of her bed. She patted the girl on the head rewardingly while letting out yet another loud yawn. Her stomach growled loudly and broke the comfortable silence in the room. Lucia giggled lightly and the older woman sighed longingly for some decent food. She froze and then looked down at the giddy child with a glint in her eye.

"When was the last time you had some actual food besides Lydia's same ol' meals?"

Lucia paused and stared up at Aeiron as she moved to slip off her tunic top and efficiently begin to strap on her armor. The child let a slow-moving grin spread across her face when she realized what her mother had in mind. "What're you goin' make, Máthair?"

The general by now was pulling her hair out from under the bear pelt that she had just fixed to her shoulders. She turned to look at the nine year old as she slung the leather sheath of her battleaxe over her shoulder. "I was thinkin' of makin' pancakes. How about it?"

Aeiron laughed tiredly as she watched the girl speed out of the room and heard her footsteps trail away and thunder down the stairs. She followed behind at her own slow pace and hummed a light tune along the way until she froze at the doorway. The brunette clenched her teeth and hissed sickly through her clenched mouth. Her left hand grabbed her other forearm with her fingers twitching as the lightning ran through her body.

Her eyes moved to and fro rapidly before she squeezed her eyes shut and bent her knees some more. Moving was difficult; every body part she had was suddenly made out of lead, even her lungs. Every breath seemed to allow less and less air into her chest while more and more fluttered away negligently. Aeiron screamed in her mind for them to come back, but they didn't hear her; they never did.

Her arms had begun to sting with the lion growling and pacing in her head again.

"Máthair?!" She heard Lucia holler from the kitchen. "Aeiron, come  _on!_ " The Celt breathed a hesitant laugh. Get yourself together! Aeiron pursed her lips and inhaled bright candlelight that illuminated the room began to flicker as her head pulsed.

And then it stopped altogether. She let a startled breath out and stopped squeezing her right wrist. Aeiron took a few more breaths before she felt the pendant against her chest. The woman shook her head and fled the room and jogged down the stairs before she could even give herself the chance to dwell on what in  _Oblivion_  had just happened.

* * *

The fact that other men would have stayed deep in a sound sleep while Aeiron was up walking about after a fight with a dragon was something in itself; a woman could usually not carry her own weight, let alone surpass male warriors when outnumbered. Vilkas had watched the renowned Dragonborn storm into the mead hall swiftly and with brute force measured into the steps she took towards the living area downstairs below the great hall after killing the dragon. She was downstairs for about an hour talking to Kodlak before she emerged and briefly said "goodnight" to everyone before heading back to her house on the other side of town. Between now and then, she hadn't set foot in the mead hall, and part of him wondered why. "Aeiron!" Farkas called out for her from where he sat next to the grumpy Companion. The pair of twins watched as she stopped right by the table and let a breath out before turning to face the two men.

"Dia dhuit, Farkas!" She replied cheerfully. Her eyes wandered over to the less social man who was brooding while reading his book. "... _Grumpy_ ," she smirked and it had the desired result; Vilkas looked up at her calmly and batted his eyes at her a few times.

"Stormblade."

Farkas laughed and clapped his smarter brother on the back a few times. "Don't be so rude, Vilkas! A woman's talking to you!"

"Yes Farkas, I know," he replied with a glare he deemed appropriate towards his brother. "Thank you for the observation."

He heard Aeiron snicker at his suffering and looked up at her quickly. She raised her eyebrows at him while a playful smirk tugged her lips to one side. Her hands were at her hips and one leg was bent more than the other; she was baiting him, she had to be.

"Am I really that horrible to be around, Vilkas?" He could see her smile falter ever so slightly. He returned to his book but stole another glace at her while letting himself smirk a little at what he was about to say.

"Thou art as loathsome as a toad."

It was quiet in the room for a moment before he heard a more than audible gasp from the Dragonborn's mouth.

" _You did not -!_ "

"Aye, I did." He smirk grew when he glanced at her and saw Aeiron's face becoming scarlet red.

Farkas snickered before laughing boisterously and dying from lack of air.

"Aeiron!" he gagged out in between harsh breaths. "Your  _face_!"

She was too busy glaring at the infuriating man to care about what she looked like. His wolfish grin and laughing eyes did not help at all to quell the blood rushing to her face. And upon further inspection, Vilkas held a copy of "Troilus and Cressida". The brunette cracked her knuckles accordingly and was preparing to breathe fire through her gritted teeth; it only made the man more amused.

Normally most of the women like Ria and Ysolda would have yelled at him for being so rude. Njada would have been too imitated to take on someone of higher rank, despite the front she normally puts up, and Aela would have just plain out  _mauled_  him depending on the time of day or just fired back an insult and moved on. Aeiron by far was better company than most women.

Sure, he had gotten word of the massive fight that had taken place, he'd even witnessed part of it first hand; but he hadn't seen her fighting capabilities, hadn't been there to witness the infamous Stormcloak general live up to her name while still recovering from wounds that were still healing...the again, he had. That night where the night wreaked of the horrid stench of vampires, most of which she dealt with personally; a whole group of them, dead by her hand. It made him wonder how she would stand against a wolf. His wolf could smell the faint traces of burnt flesh on her body whenever she passed by or was by him.

Yes, he could tell that the burns on her body were still shrinking into the depths of her body; he and the rest of the Circle knew. Not a word was said until Kodlak brought it up the night she had been carried back into town, and that was two...three days ago? They were planning on asking her to recall the event; to hopefully agree on taking one or two of them dragon hunting soon. By the Divines, even _Vilkas_ was looking forward to it.

Some smoke seeped out of her nostrils before she composed herself and fired back an insult. "Methink'st thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee."

Vilkas blinked with a blank face a few times before replying calmly, "I don't recall asking for your opinion."

The brunette inhaled sharply and grabbed the nearest chair before swinging it up towards her as her body shook with rage. Farkas knew better after his many dealings with Aela not to but in on conversations like these; if Vilkas wanted to be murdered with a chair by Aeiron,  _so be it_.

"Aeiron, what are -" the trio turned to see Lydia in the doorway with her hands on her hips as she impatiently tapped her foot. The said woman being questioned didn't have time to defend herself as the Housecarl marched over and grabbed her by the ear lobe. "How many times have I told you to keep your temper in check?!" She reprimanded as she marched back towards the ajar doorway, all the while the brunette whining in pain and Farkas snickering while Vilkas grinned widely. "You are such a child! It's no wonder Lucia is beating up the boys when they pick on her if she learns her bad habits from you! I demand that you fix that with her at once or she..."

"Vilkas~!  _Farkaaaaaas~!_ " Aeiron whimpered while reaching towards him with a feeble hand. The said Companion waved at her with a cheeky grin as she was dragged up the stairs. He even chuckled a bit as he saw her eyes water up ever so slightly while she began to kick and squirm as she and Lydia ascended the stairs in a most ungraceful manner. Aeiron was about to yell for the both of them again when the door unceremoniously was slammed behind them - and the mead hall was once again quiet.

Farkas sighed and leaned back in his chair, still chuckling a bit as he turned to look at his brother. Vilkas stared back for a good three seconds before both began laughing again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sorry for the SUPER late update! I didn't have a computer for two months and now I'm frantically working to finish my summer homework :'D  
> So yeah...Leave me some feedback if you don't mind? ^^'

                She almost wanted to laugh at the situation. "Remind me again why I'm stuck with an arsehole like you?" Aeiron turned and looked at her "traveling buddy" while the pair were on their way southwestward bound to retrieve a "misplaced" heirloom.

                Vilkas glared at her while his tongue ran over his healing split lip. "Have you ever thought it might have to do with the fact that you nearly wrecked the place with three broken chairs and barely dodging a table?" He sneered at the woman. They were stopping and sun fall was soon to approach. And to top it all off, they had gotten a late start thanks to her.

                "Hey!" She pointed an accusing finger at the Companion. "You baited me! You insulted my dignity and then spat on it by calling me 'Little Lioness', Wolfy!" Aeiron bitterly formed her fingers into air quotes when sounding out the unbearable pet name he gave her.

                She couldn't see the sliver of a smirk that was retching at the corner of his mouth as he began to walk ahead of her along the cobblestone road. "You have no proof," he simply stated in reply. And then he could hear the Celt cracking her knuckles again as well as a high pitched noise that rose from the back of her throat.

                Kodlak was not happy when he saw the two brawling out in the training yard and duking it out. Aeiron's bloody nose and lip paired with Vilkas' split lip and black eye (not like one could tell, though...) as well as the broken furniture in the mead hall was enough to make the Harbinger pair them up for this mission. Gods be damned.

                "I still loathe you," the Celt growled out as she caught up to the older man before becoming quiet again. Vilkas remained silent as they carried on wordlessly for a while. Aeiron smiled to herself when the sun fell onto her face and shook her head back and forth.

                "The weather's so nice," he heard her sigh out pleasantly. Vilkas glanced at her briefly before turning back to the road. He was never one for small chat. It was more of a waste of time than anything else.

                "Many grump. Very scowl. What Vilkas. Amaze. Wow."

                Vilkas paused and turned to look at the cheeky woman with a bewildered expression. "...What?"

                Aeiron batted her innocent light blue eyes at him while still retaining her cheeky smile that went almost from ear to ear. "What grump. Such friendly. Much Companion. Wow. Superb."

The man frowned at her. They were stopping. Again. "Just what are you insinuating?"

                "That some conversation won't kill you, Grumpy," Aeiron frowned at Vilkas' attempt to intimidate her with his anger.

"We're losing time, no thanks to you," the wolf sneered.

                Aeiron's eyes widened and in the next instant she was holding her battleaxe down by her side. He didn't see her unsheathed it. "Do you want to settle this _now_?" She growled.

                Vilkas scoffed at the offer. "Tempting as it may be, I don't feel like leaving a job undone and carting your body back to Whiterun before being accused as a murderer."

                She narrowed her eyes at him, and then relaxed and sheathed her weapon. "Fair enough," she concurred. "But when we head back to Jorrvaskr, well settle our grudges there."

                "Fine," he barked out. The pair glared at each other before continuing their course along the road. Aeiron kept her eyes on him as they walked along.

                "Where are we heading to retrieve the family's heirloom?" She finally asked with a bitter sigh.

                "...Cracked Tusk Keep." He answered, not even bothering to look back at her. "The bandits have been a problem for a while now. I have no quarrel with rectifying the problem."

                "That makes two of us, _for once_ ," Aeiron tersely quipped. Vilkas looked over his shoulder at her, arching an eyebrow.

                "Why do you say that?"

                "You always seemed pissed off at me for whatever reason, Vilkas. I'm the only one you act like this with, so I don't know what the problem is!"

                He stopped and turned to face her, noting the frustration and confusion he saw. She stared back unrelentingly, fiddling idly with her hands as she maintained the eye contact. "We should keep moving," he spoke quietly before turning around to press on once more.

Aeiron followed quietly this time, feeling her arms burn and itch the entire time.

* * *

 

                They set up camp a few more miles up past Riverwood when the sun started sinking behind the horizon. Vilkas agreed to tend to the campfire while Aeiron went off and caught dinner. She was still throwing off her pack and switching her battleaxe out for her bow when Aeiron heard wood cracking and smelled burning timber. She turned around to see him blowing into the small ember and trying to bring it to life.

                “Nice job!” she offered, smirking down at the camp fire and then looking up at Vilkas.

                He arched an eyebrow as he sat down on the fallen log behind him. “Are you really that surprised that I managed to build a campfire?”

                Aeiron shrugged her shoulders and laughed nervously. “Aye, a bit.”

                The Companion sighed in annoyance.

                “I should be back in an half an hour or so,” the Celt spoke up again, drawing her bow with a smirk. “Don’t burn down the entire forest while I’m gone, hm?”

                He didn’t come up with a response in time before she began walking away into a denser part of the woods.  Sighing, Vilkas reached into his pack and took out a worn copy of _Of Skeevers and Men_ and flipped the book open to where a scrap of paper was dangling out of it. Vilkas let the bookmark dangle between two fingers of one hand while holding the novella with the other, slouching forward and finally by himself. The forest seemed to be more peaceful and quieter than Whiterun or Jorrvaskr for that matter. It was something about the outside world that held solace for him, despite the enemies that could be lurking about in the shadows.

                Aeiron was back before he knew it, carrying a large dead elk over her shoulders with a smirk. “Caught dinner!” she beamed.

                He stared at her pointedly. “About time.” His eyes then caught notice of the animal missing its head. “You cut its head off?”

                “Wanted to make this as easy on the both of us as possible,” Aeiron answered with a small smile. Vilkas however continued to glare at her.

                She frowned and then rolled her eyes. Arguing with him would be trivial and pointless.

                Vilkas leafed back to where he started to where he was now in the book; over fifty pages covered. He raised his eyebrows in surprise before placing the bookmark back into the novella and tossed it by his pack as Aeiron came over set the dead animal down. As she stood up, she rubbed her arms and shivered a bit. “It’s a bit chilly tonight,” she mumbled.

                “Then maybe you should have packed something to wear.” He crouched down beside the elk and reached his hand out for a dagger.

                She frowned at him once more, but acquiesced and reached for the dagger she kept strapped to her upper thigh. “Can’t,” Aeiron answered bluntly. “It would slow me down, or get chopped up in a fight,” the brunette shrugged absentmindedly as he took the dagger from her hand and began cutting away at the elk’s hide. “Whichever one would come first.”

                Vilkas paused and looked up at her skeptically. “I’m honestly surprised you could keep your mouth shut long enough to kill this thing,” he gestured with the now bloody dagger.

                Aeiron rolled her eyes and sat down on the log that Vilkas had occupied not too long ago. “Normally I _am_ quiet, Vilkas?”

                “Then why are you so chatty _now_?” he didn’t bother to look up at her this time.

                “Cause I think you’re smart and have a twisted sense of humor similar to mine,” she answered childishly, head propped up by her arms that were locked into place between her legs and her jaw.

                Vilkas exhaled another bitter breath. “I don’t like small talk, woman,” he glanced up at her this time, now about a third done in skinning the beast and severing its limbs.

                “Well, that much is obvious, Grumpy,” she gave a dismayed sigh and then glanced over to Vilkas’ pack.

                “You should have picked a fight with my brother, then. I bet he could entertain you a _lot_ more than I am, woman.”

                She picked up the small worn book by the pack and studied the cover. “At least you’re not calling me ‘Little Lioness’.”

                He couldn’t help but smirk a bit at that statement but kept his eyes glued to what he was doing.

                “Why can’t I talk to you?”

                Vilkas froze, about to snap at her, but Aeiron kept going.

                “ _I never get to talk to nobody. I get awfully lonely. You can talk to people, but I can’t talk to nobody but Curly_.”

                He gawked at Aeiron as she looked up from the novella, smiling lightly. “Read this a few years ago and loved it,” she said, waving the book in the air. “It’s hard to find a copy of it outside of Cyrodiil, though, so I’m curious as to how you found it.”

                Vilkas blinked his eyes a few times before going back to skinning the animal. “Kodlak gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday. He knew Farkas and I were…having _issues_.”

                Aeiron nodded silently and pursed her lips, looking away from him. “Gotcha.” She looked back at him and spoke up again, “It’s cause George and Lenny are a lot like you two, huh?”

                “Something like that,” Vilkas grunted as he stood up and wiped the blood off on one of the elk pelts before handing it back to her. Aeiron wordlessly took her dagger back and put it back in its sheath. He threw the hide of the dead animal to the side with a grunt and then looked back up at the woman. “This is one big elk, woman,” he sighed. “You killed one with enough meat on it to feed us the entire trip there and back.”

                Aeiron smirked at the news and chuckled a bit.

                “Problem is that we have nowhere to _store_ it.”

                And there goes her confidence; killed, smothered, and then stomped on like a stray ember.

                _Goddammit,_ Vilkas.

                “We will if we cut it up,” she offered, gesturing to the dead animal with one hand while the other one remained firmly placed on her hip. Vilkas glared at her and arched an eyebrow clearly in ridicule. “Or we could gobble up the entire thing and try imitating horkers the entire way there. Your pick,” Aeiron shrugged.

                Vilkas snorted and shook his head. “That’s your idea of getting the job done?”

                “Not always, but I like to think outside of the box,” Aeiron smirked while tilting her head to one side. “I’ve got room in my pack, so I’ll carry it after we dry out the meat. In the meantime…you cook it.”

                “…Why _me_?”

                “Have you ever wondered why Lydia acts more like a mother hen than a Housecarl with me?”

                “A bit,” Vilkas sighed. “Where are you going with this?”

                “Do you recall ever hearing an explosion down by the city gates, you know, where someone blew a hole in the wall of their home for Mid Year Celebration?”

                “…Aye, there was a whole commotion in—that was you, wasn’t it?”

                “All I did was _poke_ the goddamned thing and it went _KABOOM_! Shredded to pieces,” Aeiron sighed while leaning back and letting herself fall back onto her sitting log.

                “You can’t cook, you have a temper that would make most men crawl back to their mothers and want to suckle on their breast, and you’re childish…I don’t suppose _marriage_ has ever been in your sights, now has it?” Vilkas looked at her incredulously.

                The content look Aeiron had on her face slipped off effortlessly. She pursed her lips and hugged her body again, feeling the night’s chill now more than ever. “Why would I?” the woman sighed. “I’m hideous. I look nothing like the women in this country. And you even said it yourself, I’m annoying,” Aeiron offered with a hesitant smile.

                Vilkas stared at her with ever so slightly pliant eyes, seeing the way her eyes were turning red around their rims by the campfire. He looked away and put the animal carcass over the fire to cook before picking up his pack and taking a seat next to her. “I’m hideous too, Aeiron,” he spoke quietly. She turned slowly to look at him, almost reluctantly. “I have the beast blood. I can’t settle down and raise a family so long as I have it. It makes me snap when I don’t want to. I barely get any sleep…”

                “I know the feeling,” Aeiron replied meekly, turning her gaze back to the fire. She scoffed lightly and shook her head. “Well, after you cure yourself, finding yourself a spouse shouldn’t be a problem,” she continued. “You got it all, Vilkas. Most women would kill for that,” she turned to look at him with a smirk.

                “There’s no cure for lycanthropy,” he replied.

                “Aye, there is,” she returned coarsely.

                “Woman, ho—”

                “I take a dagger dipped in silver and stab you in the heart. It forces the wolf out and it’s not potent enough to kill you.” She turned to look at him reassuringly. “I’ve done it before, Grumpy. It’ll work.”

                Vilkas turned to eye the fire once more, remaining silent. Aeiron looked up at the night sky above them. “And what of you?” he spoke up finally arched an eyebrow her way. “Would you kill for that?”

                She looked back at him, a bit surprised as she batted her eyelashes at him while processing what he had just said. “Not if he was an arsehole all the time.” She returned bluntly.

                Vilkas scoffed and shook his head. “That hurt me a little.”

                “Get used to it, Vilkas. Anyone who knows me says I’m never easy to deal with.”

                “ _Can’t imagine why_ …” he grumbled.

                “Hmm?”

                Vilkas glared at her. “Nothing.”  Much to his annoyance, she smirked at him and shook her head. “Elk’s done.”

                “Yay!” she clapped her hands together and licked her lips. He froze as he was about to pull a part of the deer off and slowly turned to look back at her, frowning while blinking his eyes a bit. She batted her eyes at the Companion while puckering her lips. “What?”

                Vilkas sighed and shook his head. “…Nothing.”

                The rest of the night was silent, except for the wildlife and Aeiron’s racing thoughts. Vilkas got the best sleep he had in the past few nights.

* * *

 

                Dawn came forth with a crawl and Aeiron woke up for the fifth and last time ever since her shift began. The fire was now embers, the elk meet packed up, and Vilkas sleeping soundlessly on his bedroll. She got up, feeling her bones crack and muscles pop as she stretched out and looked up at the sunrise that painted the sky above them.

                Her eyes wandered over to him. She pursed her lips before tiptoeing over towards him. Small twigs cracked and dead leaves rustled as she got closer to him. Aeiron kneeled down and poked the Companion in his side, gloved hand against plated armor. “Vilkas,” she mumbled tiredly. “Wake up.”

                He didn’t respond.

                “Vilkas?”

                A loud snore erupted from his mouth.

                Aeiron frowned. “ _Grumpy_.”

                He snored again, this time louder. She didn’t have time for this shit.

                “ _VILKAS!_ ”

                Vilkas sat up with a start and reached for his armor. “ _What?!”_

                “C’mon, we gotta get going,” Aeiron sighed, standing up straight and slinging her backpack over her shoulder. He glared at her with sleepy golden eyes, blinking them rapidly and feeling the air burn them.

                “ _Never_ do that again,” he sneered as he pushed himself off of the ground. Aeiron shrugged and stomped out the fire as he gathered his things. When she turned around, Vilkas was already a good twenty feet ahead of her.

                “ _Oi!_ ” She hollered after him and sprinted to catch up. He didn’t turn around to face her.

                “What’s the matter, _Stormblade_? Can’t keep up?” he sneered at her.

                “Bí ' do thost, Vilkas. _Bí ' do thost,_ ” she growled back in reply.

                He scoffed with a smirk. “And what does _that_ mean?”

                “It means ‘shut up’. And that’s one of my _nicer_ insults, Bastún tú,” she punctuated the statement by brushing the back of her fingers against the bottom of her jaw while glaring at him.

                Hearing him chuckle only fueled her rage more. “The sentiment’s mutual, Stormblade.”

                Somehow, she was okay with that.

               

               

               

               

               

               

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not updating in so long, but school is more of a drain for me than anything else and my workload is piling on more by the week as the quarter progresses. But nonetheless, I managed to squeeze out this (crappy) chapter. Feedback? ^^

They were approaching the city when two guards ran up to them through the evening fog.

"Stormblade! We need your help!" one of them cried as the pair slowed down in front of them. Vilkas raised an eyebrow and glanced at the Dragonborn, who was rolling her eyes and sighing heavily.

" _Of course_  you do," Aeiron muttered under her breath and crossed her arms. "What's the problem?" she asked.

The other Stormcloak spoke up this time, "Bandits are raiding the town at night. They've been wearing us out over the past three nights. We're barely getting any sleep here."

Aeiron turned to look at Vilkas. "Sounds like our guys," she suggested.

"Aye," he replied, still frowning. "Three nights, you said?"

"Aye," the first guard spoke up. "They've been attacking at night when it's pitch black outside and we can't see them until they're here...they didn't attack last night though, so we took the opportunity to get some shut eye."

"Hmmm," the general pursed her lips and looked around. She turned her head and placed her hands on her hips as she scanned the area.

"How are your men holding up now?" the Companion spoke up.

The other guard sighed nervously. "Not so well. We lost one third of our men the first night, and more the next two."

"Any casualties?"

"A few," the second guard answered. "Not many, though. These bandits hit hard and fast."

Vilkas raised his head and sniffed the morning air. "Aeiron," he growled. "They're vampires."

Aeiron whispered a word and continued scanning the area around them. Her eyes widened and she drew her axe. "You don't say?" She turned to look at the two soldiers. "You forgot to mention that they're vampires, Soldier," she cursed under her breath and gritted her teeth.

At that moment, a loud roar rung through the air. Aeiron felt chills go up her spine as she saw the sky grow darker with each passing moment. "Fortify the city and whatever you do, don't open the gates," she ordered before sheathing her axe and kneeling down to the ground while removing her pack.

"What are you doing?" the Companion asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Vampires are a pain to deal with. They suck the life outta ya..., geddit?" she looked up at him with a smirk. "They  _suck_  the life outta ya?"

He glared at her in reply.

Aeiron sighed in defeat. "This is why I have no friends…" she went back to shuffling through the items in her backpack. "Anyways, to answer your question, I'm going to set up a few traps by the front-" she paused abruptly.

"What is it?" he asked.

"They'll come up the front…" she muttered before turning her head again to look up at Vilkas. "The house where that priest of Arkay lives by the graveyard, there's no wall separating the city from the wilderness. If they were looking to kill everyone here, they would go that way, but..."

"What makes you so sure?"

"They know we're coming! Why do you think there wasn't an attack last night, on top of the guards lying to us?"

Suddenly it clicked in Vilkas' head. "I see what you mean...Got any ideas on how to deal with the threat?"

"We should probably ask the other Companions to come down here and help-"

" _No!_ " Vilkas interjected. "Kodlak thought we were capable of dealing with the threat ourselves."

Aeiron sighed in defeat. "Alright, we'll do it your way." She rose from the ground and held a few objects in her hand. "But I need to make this work to our advantage," she spoke up again, waving the hand that was holding the trap components.

He watched with wide eyes as she worked quickly to make the traps, helping out wordlessly when she ordered him to do something. Their resemblance to the traps in the Nordic tombs was uncanny. Apparently she had plundered enough of them to know how to mimic his ancestors. At the end of the few hours they had assembled their chess pieces, they had poison darts, pressure plates, trip wire for fire damage, and finally, a large log that would swing down when activated with a broken tripwire.

Aeiron dusted off her hands in accomplishment with a smirk as he stared up at the booby traps with wary eyes. He turned to look at her when he heard muffled movements to his side.

"Where are you going?" Vilkas asked. He watched as she began climbing the large tree.

"You take the ground, I'll pick them off from above!" she hollered over her shoulder. Aeiron swiftly pulled herself up the large tree, jumping from branch to branch before straddling a large limb. She drew her bow and an arrow from her quiver, scanning the area.

"And how on Nirn do you expect me to fight off a pack of vampires by myself?" He shouted at her from the ground.

"You won't be, Grumpy. I'll be picking them off from up here," she answered with a calm voice, aiming off in the distance a few hundred feet away from Vilkas. He stared at her incredulously before letting his anger get the best of him.

"You have GOT to be-"

"Vilkas! Dún do bhéal! (Shut up!)" she yelled back at him.

Vilkas glared at her with disturbed eyes before turning to look at the ground. "Fine…" he sighed in defeat. "If you shoot me though, I  _will_  kill you," the Companion growled.

"Fair enough," she smirked before reaching for something in her pack. Aeiron looked back at Vilkas and tossed it down to him. He caught it with ease and opened his hand to stare down at the large health potion.

He glared up at her but begrudgingly complied as he slipped the medal over his head. Vilkas sighed bitterly and pocketed the potion before unsheathing his sword. "This had better work," he growled.

Aeiron sighed and leaned her back against the trunk of the tree, pursing her lips and exhaling deeply. The woods fell into a deep silence as the seconds ticked by, something that never happened in Skyrim's wildlife. She frowned and whispered, " _Laas_."

The figures were too far away to tell whether or not they were human or beast, but nonetheless Aeiron was startled as they slowly crawled closer towards her. She whistled for Vilkas to hopefully be picking up on what she saw. He looked up at her and nodded confidently.

Aeiron sighed in relief as her heart pounded in her chest. Vilkas looked up at her again. "Just to warn you, I'll be using some flash grenades and other toys to help you out. You'll know when I'll use them, so just keep your wits about you, Wolf," she smirked as she spoke down to the Companion.

He rolled his eyes in response before turning its head away from her begrudgingly and paced around the area cautiously. Aeiron relaxed against the back of the tree, feeling her eyes become heavy and her body becoming limp. She whispered the word " _laas_ " again and saw the vampires slowly approaching from the southern side.

"Heh," she chuckled as she straightened out and readied her bow. "What a time to be alive," with a smirk she aimed towards her left and watched as Vilkas abruptly paused and turned around to face the road. He growled and then tightened the grip on his sword. "Looks like he knows we have company," she mused as she scooted up the branch and trying to get a clearer view of the road down below her.

The vampires swarmed from the thin air on front of Vilkas, only for him to quickly cut down one of them as soon as he saw it. Aeiron went to work with efficiently aiming her bow and letting the arrow fly through the air the moment she had an opportunity. One vampire tried swinging her axe at his head; he quickly ducked to the side and let her step on one of the pressure plates, the elven body igniting with wild flames in an instant. He lunged forward and stabbed her in the abdomen with his sword; she was dead before she hit the ground.

Another came charging towards him from the back. Aeiron quickly turned her attention to him and plucked another arrow effortlessly into the air. Vilkas turned at the scream the vampire let out and saw it fall to the ground just as he shifted. He looked up at the woman, who saluted him with a smirk before lining up another shot. "You're slacking, Wolf!" she chided playfully. Vilkas turned his head just in time to dodge a fatal swing of another vampire's sword.

Just as she let the words fly through the air, a vampire appeared behind her on the tree branch, slowly stalking towards her. Vilkas pushed the vampire off of him and turned to look back at up at Aeiron, eyes widening in horror as he spotted the vampire behind her. "AEIRON!" he roared.

Aeiron turned her body sharply, dodging the blow. Her thighs lost their grip around the tree branch. She was falling through the air faster than she could process. "Feck!" she yelled, bracing for her back impacting the ground with closed eyes and gritted teeth. She heard Vilkas curse verbally at the vampires to get out of his way and then heard metal shifting quickly, clanking as it drew near.

The pain was virtually nonexistent; her body ached in some places, but not from colliding with the ground. Aeiron opened her eyes and looked up to see Vilkas staring back at her with a sweaty brow and heavy breathing.

"Vilkas…" his name left her lips breathlessly as she tightly gripped her bow in her other hand.

"Damn it, Woman. You're more trouble than you're worth," he muttered with a groan. Aeiron on the other hand was rendered speechless and couldn't form any coherent thought to counter his insult. He turned to face the remaining vampires; their numbers were considerably thinned since they had started with only a rough estimate of half of them remaining. Vilkas gently set her down on the ground.

Aeiron shyly looked away, muttered a "thank you", and tossed her bow to the side, the quiver full of arrows soon following before she finally drew her battleaxe and turned her attention back to the vampires.

"Ba chóir duit a bheith ag rith (You should be running)," she smirked before letting the axe's long handle roll over her knuckles as she swung the axe down in front of her. Vilkas pulled his sword out of the ground and readied himself alongside Aeiron.

"Nice of you to finally join," Vilkas remarked with a sideways glance directed towards her. She smirked back at him and sighed.

"A queen is never late; everyone else is simply early."

Vilkas felt his mouth twitch at one corner. "I like that saying," he remarked genuinely, briefly glancing at her once more before eyeing the vampires once more. He felt a strong gust of wind blow past him, knowing immediately it was Aeiron as soon as he saw her materialize in front of one of the remaining vampires and swing her battleaxe through him.

The vampire fell to the ground in two halves and Aeiron spun on her heels to swing her axe around her like a heavy club, only wielding it with minimal effort as it were a long pole rather than her intimidating axe.

Aeiron turned around quickly, seeing another vampire charging towards her with a shrill battle cry; she smirked and lowered her guard. On his way, he quickly stepped on a pressure plate. A chain snapped. He slowed down in confusion and turned his head; his eyes widened when he saw the giant log swinging his way. She winced when the now dead vampire's corpse collided with the log and was then crushed between the log and another still erect tree; she always thought the sound of bones being crushed was a tad sickening. A meager smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth as she whistled and lugged her axe to rest over her shoulders.

The other vampires looked away from the vampire-tree sandwich and over towards the smug-looking Celt who was cracking her neck casually. They immediately rushed

Vilkas smirked as he jumped into the action, not wanting to be outdone.

* * *

Vilkas sighed with satisfaction with his greatsword embedded into the ground as he leaned on it and turned to look at her. Aeiron held her pack in one and used her other to dig through the bag, sifting around until it pulled out a small bar of chocolate. She dropped the pack carelessly and popped the treat into her mouth with childish excitement before turning to look at the Companion. "Well, that was fun," she spoke sarcastically.

He couldn't argue with that statement. "Aye," he answered bitterly. "Very fun."

"Much fun," she spoke up again, now smirking with glinting eyes. "Many vampire. Very kill. Amaze. Wow."

The amused look in his eyes turned into a glare within a split second. This shit again?

Aeiron couldn't control her laughter through her chocolate-filled mouth and wound up squeaking loudly while holding her empty hand to cover her mouth. Her body shook with laughter as she finally swallowed the chocolate and giggled excessively. "T-that look on your face!" the brunette snorted. "It. Is. Priceless!"

Vilkas' glare softened as he gazed at her.

The guards finally emerged from the city, opening the gate and stepping outside cautiously. "They're...They're all dead?" One Nordic voice asked.

"Aye," Aeiron replied, picking up her bow and quiver and slinging them over her shoulder. She looked up; behind the trees where the sky met the ground the sun was rising. The Celt smiled at the morning dawn when the beams of light began to caress her skin and warm her chilled body. The night was finally over.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! A new chapter! Let me know what you guys think? :3

Aeiron inspected the stolen family heirloom; an old and worn glass bow that shimmered with a dull glare in the morning sun. It felt light in her hands, a bit lighter than her own bow, but the string was feeble; tension was lost over the years. The family's insignia was burned into a piece of glass near the handle of the bow, one she did not recognize. She sighed and returned the bow to the leather sheath made for it.

Her back bumped into the wooden pole as she waited on the stairs for Vilkas to be done talking to the Jarl. Afterall, he was the official Companion member, not her. The town of Falkreath also held an unspeakable grudge against her for the Stormcloak's victory in taking over this town a few years ago. Aeiron usually found herself coming back here every once in a while to follow up on reports of the town harboring Imperial soldiers, which were unfortunately correct most of the time. It finally got to the point of where Ulfric threatened to burn the city down to the ground if they refused to cease their activities.

Aeiron smirked at the recollection of the last raid she led through the town; in her opinion, it was the most humorous out of the six or so she led on Ulfric's orders…

Speaking of which, she should probably go report in soon. When was the last time she spoke to him? Five...six months maybe? Aeiron pursed her lips at the thought and felt herself began to sweat nervously. Ulfric was  _not_  a man to be kept waiting, that much she had learned the hard way. The High King had a temper that rivaled hers when he was about ready to blow a gasket like a Dwemer contraption under too much heat. He was a big bear though; loving towards her and spoke less ridicule to her, as opposed to the  _other_  troops under his command.

Vilkas trudged out of the long hall, a scowl on his face as he turned to look at her while descending the stairs. "I  _hate_  politics," he cursed with a bitter breath. Aeiron smiled knowingly as she pushed herself off of the wooden beam and crossed her arms.

"Don't we all?" she asked sarcastically. "But for me it's the opposite for me; Politics hate  _me_."

He slowly raised an eyebrow at the statement.

"I'm known for  _talking_  more with my hands, if you catch my drift," she answered him reluctantly.

"I think that one right hook that gave me my black eye says enough about you," Vilkas pointed to his still swollen eye while shooting her a look.

Aeiron chuckled at his glare and sauntered down the stairs. "In my defense, you can't tell with all of that war paint you wear over your eyes!" she called teasingly over her shoulder. He frowned and followed her begrudgingly, scowling once more at her remark.

She was right.  _Dammit_.

"At least we didn't have to go all the way to Cracked Tusk Keep to get this bow back. I would  _hate_  to go up against vampires in an enclosed space," she spoke up again, mostly to herself, but Vilkas couldn't help but agree with the statement.

* * *

 

They made it back to Whiterun by sunset with a mostly uneventful trip back home with the exception of a pack of wolves attacking them. Aeiron earned herself a new gash on her leg that was exceptionally large, but she insisted that she was fine. Vilkas, who was running off of pure determination to make it back before nightfall and lack of sleep as she was, didn't object and they continued along the road up to the city gates.

Vilkas turned around when he heard a  _THUD!_  on the ground. He saw Aeiron gritting her teeth while holding a gloved hand over the wound; apparently it re-opened on her. The Companion heaved a sigh before turning around and walking towards her. "Don't you know healing magic?" he raised a burly eyebrow towards her.

Aeiron looked up at him with a shit-eating grin that made him think she would attack him if he dared to utter another word. "Aye, but it drains my energy to the point of where I can barely walk right," she answered with a groan as she tried to stand up again. Her leg wobbled and she drew her axe with lightning speed to plant the spear tip of it into the cobblestone to keep herself from falling down again.

Vilkas stared at her with growing annoyance and finally approached her. "Put your axe away," he spoke up. Aeiron gave him an incredulous look.

"Are you  _feckin'_ -"

"Just do it," Vilkas sighed once more. She stared at him for a moment before putting all of her weight on her good leg and sheathed her axe. And just as she predicted, her body began wobbling.

Aeiron's eyes widened as she watched him put an arm around her back. "What are you-!" Before she knew it, he scooped her up in his arms and began marching back to Whiterun. "Hey! Vilkas! Put me down!"

"And have you slow us down even further? Woman, I'm tired.  _You're_  tired. It's been a long trip and I would like to not miss dinner at Jorrvaskr on your account."

The gates opened for them. Aeiron glared at the Stormcloak soldiers who were staring at them with their bugged-out eyes. "Still narcissistic, I see," she mumbled with rosy cheeks.

Vilkas looked down at her again with an arched eyebrow. "I am carrying  _you_  and yet  _I_  am the self-centered one," he scoffed.

"Your motives are selfish," she countered, crossing her arms and looking away shyly. They passed through the market area, which was thankfully closed. Aeiron couldn't handle any more spectators.

She heard him chuckle when he began climbing the stairs to the Wind district. "What in Oblivion are you laughing at?" Aeiron shot him a glare that resembled more of a pout and she saw his lips twitch at the corners of his mouth. His eyes seemed softer to look at now.

"Nothing," he answered.

"Clearly you're laughing at  _something_ ," she objected. "Now what is it?"

"What does it matter to you, Woman?" Vilkas countered. He stopped warily in front of the Gildergreen, suddenly forgetting about feeding his famished body.

"Because if you're mocking me, I would at least like you to say it to my face," Aeiron spoke up again. She stopped herself from saying ' _I hate it when people jeer at me and yet they won't admit to it'_ ; she didn't need his pity.

He noted the hurt look on her face and lost his train of thought. Vilkas couldn't help but think that she'd worn that look before or said those words in the past to more than just a few people with blurred eyes and a racing mind with a set of lungs that found it hard to breathe.

He set her down on the ground gently in front of the bench facing the stairs to the Plains district, still holding her firmly were she to fall once more. Aeiron looked up at him with a bewildered expression as he pushed her onto the bench and kneeled in front of her. "What are you doing?" she asked with a shy voice. Aeiron mentally kicked herself for sounding so timid and bashful.

Vilkas set his pack down on the ground beside him and began fishing through it. "We're dressing that wound before it gets infected, if it hasn't already," he answered her without looking up from his bag.

Aeiron leaned forward on her seat to try and see around the Gildergreen. "But the temple is right over…" the objective words died on her lips when he looked up at her; a look on his face she couldn't distinguish, but it felt like he was  _daring_  her to finish her sentence. "Never mind," she finished quickly.

He nodded his head and looked back down at his bag, fishing out a small healing potion as well as a strip of gauze. Aeiron watched intently as he placed the cork of the bottle between his teeth and tore it off, using his free hand to pull it out of his mouth before pouring the contents over her gash. She gritted her teeth and pursed her lips while struggling to breathe; she refused to show any signs of pain.

Vilkas looked up at her again and narrowed his eyes at her face. He corked the bottle again and set it down next to his pack. His fingers unwound the wrapped up gauze and slowly wound it around Aeiron's leg. She watched intently at his slow and careful movements and winced when the gause first touched the gash, slowly settling down as Vilkas continued to wrap up her leg.

The Companion took out his dagger and cut the wrap of gauze off from what was wrapped around her leg. Aeiron continued to watch as he held his hand on the frayed end of the cloth while putting the remaining material and his dagger into his pack once more. Vilkas tucked in the material with a ginger touch that made her think that it would be impossible for such a bitter man to have.

He looked up at her slowly when he was done. Aeiron pursed her lips and swallowed hard, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. "T-Thank you," she mumbled with a voice softer than she had intended. Vilkas' eyebrows were raised a small amount at the words and he looked at her with softer eyes than before. His eyes flickered down to her teeth biting her lower lip before looking back up at hers.

"Let's get going," he sighed as he stood up and reached his hands out for hers. Aeiron grasped them warily and rose slowly from the bench.

It didn't hurt to stand on her leg anymore.

She let her hands slide loose of his grasp and attempted to take a step forward. Her leg wobbled and she fell forward. Vilkas caught her just in time upon reflex. Aeiron felt her face flush and froze for a moment. Hearing the Companion sigh made her come back to the real world. "You still can't walk, huh?" his voice seemed soothing to listen to, if anything else.

Her eyes darted to the ground as she pursed her lips again. Maybe it was the lack of sleep finally getting to him, she couldn't help but wonder. Breathing seemed just as laborious as maintaining her balance. She suddenly felt scorching hot. Gods be damned, what was going on?!

A low chuckle pulsated through the air and through Aeiron's ears as she felt him wrap an arm around her back. "Come on," he spoke up again. She looked up from the ground at him and instantly regretted it; he was  _smiling_  at her. "Let's go," Vilkas nodded towards Jorrvaskr and she turned her eyes towards the mead hall.

"Aye," she uttered softly with a nervous laugh. "I'm starving."

He helped her wobble across the small bridge and up the stair towards Jorrvaskr and even opened the door for her. The Companions were all sitting at the long table when the pair came in and looked up at them.

"Welcome back, you two," Aela spoke up with a smile. "I see you both made it back in one piece!"

Aeiron smirked at the statement. "Aela, I feel insulted that you would think otherwise!" she feigned taking offense to the insult and dramatically placed a hand over her chest with a wide eyed expression.

Vilkas rolled his eyes and let his hand slowly slip from her back and let go of her arm that was wrapped around his shoulders. "Stop being so melodramatic," he said dryly with an aggravated groan. Aeiron looked up at him with a smirk and an arched eyebrow and watched silently as he trudged towards the staircase and marched down the stairs to the living quarters with the doors slamming shut behind him.

She giggled and scuttled over towards the long table and sat down across from Farkas while Kodlak asked to hear about how their job went. Aeiron unshouldered her pack and tossed the bow across the table towards the old Harbinger. He caught it with reflexive ease with only one hand. She spun the tale and exaggerated a few parts for comedy's sake, trying to keep her mind off of the way Vilkas acted towards her in front of the Gildergreen.

She didn't seem to mind letting that last arrogant comment he threw towards her slide just this once.

* * *

 

Aeiron strolled through the city and down to the Plains towards Breezehome quite some time after the sun had descended behind the horizon. The lights were out in the small house, causing the brunette to sigh. "I guess they turned in for the night," she muttered as she unlocked the front door and entered the house. The fire pit was out and the lower floor was dark with the exception of a few small candles that were scattered around the room. She tiptoed upstairs as quietly as she could and slowly opened one of the master bedroom doors.

Lucia was sound asleep on her side of the bed, tucked in with an animal pelt snuggly fitted around her small body. Aeiron smiled tiredly and sluggishly undid the straps of her armor and threw it on top of the trunk by the bed. Her bones and muscles ached as she slipped on her oversized tunic and plopped down on the bed next to her adopted daughter. She closed her eyes and couldn't find the strength to open them again.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter, and a new turn in direction for the story! I hope you all enjoy! :D

                When she woke up, Aeiron was back to the pitch black forest with the pale full moon illuminating the patch of grass she was lying down on from above. She wiped a hand down her face and blinked her eyes rapidly before scanning her surroundings from the dark blades of grass to the inky shadows of the trees and of the sky above.

                She turned her head to the side and saw the white lion laying next to her, a playful gleam in its eyes. Aeiron smiled and rubbed the animal’s head affectionately; the beast purred in content before getting up. The lion was now at eye level with her, bowing its head to touch her forehead slowly.

Aeiron breathed out sharply and closed her eyes. “Why am I here again?” she asked the beast.

                The lion in turn backed away slowly and turned around to walk in the opposite direction. Aeiron watched it with a mild curiosity. Her body moved on its own as she rose from the ground and followed warily. “H-” her voice was dead, choked out in her own throat and the air bottled up in her lungs. There was always something about the air that made her heart race whenever she wound up here. A meek breeze blew by and the crowns of the trees above swayed in the cool wind.

                Aeiron drew her battleaxe and took cautious steps that were calculated and analyzed in her head before she dared to move. Her breath was laborious and her lungs took in a certain amount of air before releasing it back into the night.

She froze. The hairs on her body straightened and goose bumps rippled across her pale skin.

                Drums began to play. Wolves began to howl. The lion stopped walking and turned around to face the air behind her with a growl. Its mane stood up as it bared its teeth to the coming wolf pack.

                She wanted to run. Run. Run.

                _Run._

                _Rith!_

                But she couldn’t. Her legs wouldn’t move. The grip on her battleaxe tightened.

                Hircine emerged from the jet black shadows, staff at hand and the skull he wore atop his head drenched in spilt blood. He was silent as he led the wolf pack in back of him towards her; their red eyes staring at their next meal with greed. Hircine wore a wicked grin under his skull as his magic did his bidding.

                “No! No! A fháil ar ais! (Get back!) Athair! Athair! Cac! (Shit!)

                Aeiron looked to her lion; it was looking towards another direction away from the werewolves. She followed its gaze, waited patiently for whatever it was she was waiting for to emerge from the darkness.

                She saw a figure, but never saw his face.

                _“Aeiron!”_

                Her eyes twitched as she emerged from the lullying darkness. Everything around her disappeared. Aeiron could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage. She tried to move her body; it felt like lead was weighing her down.

                _“Aeiron!”_ It was Lydia calling for her.

                _“Damn it!”_ Another voice. “Why isn’t she waking up?!” It sounded familiar…

                _“She was screaming in Gaelic before,”_ Lydia spoke up. She sounded nervous.

                A hand touched her forehead. Aeiron felt more at ease at the warmth it radiated. She heard other voices buzzing, swimming along in her mind.

                And then the warmth was jerked away. _“She has a high fever,”_ it was another voice this time. Sounded like Danica’s. _“Something’s wrong with her, I don’t know what.”_

                Aeiron felt unbearably cold in the darkness. Her arms couldn’t move to hug herself. She opened her eyes and saw snow drifting down around her in the forest. Everything else was gone; she was alone again. Her arms immediately went to wrap themselves around her. The bear fur cloak on her back kept in some heat, but not enough.

                And then she shouted on a whim, _“Athair?!”_ Her breath began to stagger as she shuddered in the cold northern air. _“ATHAIR!”_ she screamed this time.

                Her voice echoed throughout the forest. Some snow fell of nearby tree branches and a few birds took off from the treetops. Aeiron’s face contorted into dismay, hot tears welding into her eyes as she sunk down on her knees. _“Athair…”_

                “She’s still dreaming! We have  to wake her up!” She heard Lydia’s voice again and the way it faltered, something that it never did.

                _“Mathair…!”_ a child wailed.

                Aeiron’s eyes slowly grew larger. “Lucia…” she looked up at the dull gray sky above her as her breath grew harsher. She couldn’t hear the crunching in the snow that was gradually becoming louder as it approached her.

                A hand laid itself firmly on her shoulder. She looked up with a frozen voice and watery eyes.

                He wore a hood over his head, one trimmed with fur and more furs that cascaded down either side of his body. His outfit consisted of mainly armor and navy blue cloth, of was worn and tattered from constant abuse of the elements. He looked down at her with soft hazel eyes and a smile that she knew all too well.

                _“A...tha…”_ He fell onto his knees and wrapped her arms around her just as she leapt up towards him _. “ATHAIR!”_ Aeiron began sobbing as she heard her father’s shaky breathing and felt his hands rub her back gently. She inhaled his scent while the frozen air choked her of breath; the sweat and spice and nicotine she was always used to when being around him came back tenfold.

                “Hi, Babygirl,” Phil’s voice was soothing, quiet all on its own. She could hear the way his chest rumbled when he spoke, something she missed over the past seven years.

                “Chaill mé leat (I missed you), Athair,” she hiccupped and buried her head into his chest even more.

                “Me too, Scutch,” he pressed his lips to her temple and closed his eyes. “Me too…”

                Aeiron gave a shaky sigh and watched as one of his gloved hands removed itself from her back and towards her side. “You can’t stay, can you?” she asked with a heavy heart. Her hand came up and grasped his, fingers intertwining. He still had a larger hand than her, even after all of this time.

                “No, I can’t , Aeiron,” he replied mournfully. His grip on her hand tightened. Aeiron winced at the bruises on her arm being irritated, but bit her lip silently. “You’re only dreaming,” he continued.

                _“Her body’s growing cold!”_ she heard Danica’s distant shout in her mind.

                _“AEIRON!”_ now Lydia was screaming.

                She looked up at him, now calmer than she was before. “When will I see you again?”

                Phil sighed, looking off into the wilderness ahead of them. He sensed his time was running short. “Soon, Babygirl. Soon,” he answered, looking down at her with a gentle smile. His other and came up and his thumb brushed the white flakes off of her cheek. Aeiron tilted her head into his hand and nodded, pursing her lips while looking down at the ground below them.

                “Faigh liom ag an chloch each i Solitude,” Philip kissed her forehead with a lithe touch.

                “The Steed Stone,” Aeiron repeated, closing her eyes as she felt her father’s warmth.

                _“AEIRON!”_ a man’s voice screamed in her head.

                _“She’s not breathing!!”_

                “I keep hearing their voices in my head,” she confessed finally when he pulled away. Her father smiled down at her and exhaled in amusement.

                “They want you to go back,” He replied. “Hircine left a while ago, but he’s up to something, that I’m sure of,” Philip looked away.

                Aeiron smiled and curled up in his chest again. “I’ll be careful, Athair,” she mumbled sleepily. He rocked her to sleep gently, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I love you, Daddy.”

                “I love you too, Babygirl,” he spoke up again.

                _“By the gods...she’s breathing again!”_

* * *

 

                Aeiron’s eyes flickered open, taking in the candlelight and the blobs of what she assumed were faces, but she wasn’t in her bedroom. She sat up tiredly, eyeing the room and the blob sitting beside her on the stone bed. Vilkas stared at her with an unreadable look, inching closer to her when she looked at him. “Where am I?” she asked.

                “We’re at the Temple of Kynerath, Stormblade,” he answered.

                Aeiron gave him a look and blinked her eyes at him as her hand came to her head. “What happened.”

                “You-” he stopped and abruptly looked away while exhaling stiffly. When he looked back at her, Vilkas had what Aeiron dared to call a mournful look on his face. “We thought you...had died.”

                                “What?”

                “Your body was cold, you weren’t breathing, and...Lucia was sobbing hysterically.”

                Aeiron’s eyes widened as she looked down at her lap, pursing her lips nervously while noting she wasn’t wearing her armor, but her pajamas from the night before. “I heard them all before...how come no one’s here?” she looked back at him with an eyebrow raised.

                “It’s two in the morning, Aeiron. They all went to sleep,” he answered frankly.

                Aeiron hesitated before asking, “Then why are you up?”

                Vilkas paused and looked at her curiously. His eyes softened and then he spoke up, “I volunteered to keep watch over you, in case you did wake up.”

                “Oh,” Aeiron’s cheeks colored a bit as she looked up at him.

                He grabbed her arm harshly and yanked it towards him. She gasped and hissed at the pain of his fingers tightly wrapped around her bruises. Her tunic sleeve slid down her arm and all of the injuries on her arm were illuminated. “Vilkas, what are-”

                “How long has this been going on?” he growled at her.

                Aeiron’s eyes widened. She tried to pull her arm away, but his grasp was iron tight. “I don’t know what you’re-”

                “ _Don’t_ lie to me, Woman,” his voice grew more venomous. Vilkas’ silver eyes now had a hint of amber in them. “Lydia had no idea that you had these on your arms, and she _lives_ with you. Now how did you get these?!” he shook her bitten and clawed arm.

                Aeiron’s eyes welded up. A sob tore out of her mouth.

                No one should ever love a monster. _Ever_.

                She glared at him. "Why should I tell you?" Aeiron sneered at him before moving to get up. He held fast to her arm and squeezed it. Aeiron cried out in pain as her arm swelled and her bruises and cuts were aggravated even more.

                "You're a Companion; a warrior of high esteem. If word ever got out that you did _this_ to yourself, it would shame us all!" He roared at her. "It's amazing you can still use your hands with what they look like!"

                She narrowed her eyes at him and tried to jerk his hand off of her arm. "Let go of me," a whimper was all she could muster at the moment. It was pathetic. "Please..."

                He looked at her for a good moment before finally complying. His fingers slowly detached themselves from her skin. Aeiron sighed in relief and hugged herself.

                "Why do you do this to yourself?"

                Aeiron scoffed and looked up at him sadistically, letting her lip roll over her lower row of teeth. “Why not?” Vilkas narrowed his eyes at her as she gave him a shit-eating grin. “And you shouldn’t be so concerned, Wolf. You’re the last person who should give a shit about me.”

                Vilkas’ look didn’t waver, but he now had a lump in his throat. “And...why is that?”

                She looked at him as if he should have already known the answer. “Why,” she chuckled. “Because you _hate_ me!”

                 


	21. Chapter 21

            “You think I hate you?” Vilkas asked her. His mind was spinning at her revelation. She thought he still hated her.

 

            “You along with the rest of Whiterun,” Aeiron nonchalantly answered as she moved to stand up. She strolled casually, admiring the way the moonlight was filtered into the room, the way the vines were illuminated by the pale lighting.

 

            He blinked at her a few times, his face contorting with confusion. “ _What?_ ”

 

            “You heard me right,” she turned to answer him with a knowing smile on her face. “They  _love_  their Dragonborn, and they  _love_  their Stormblade, but they don’t give two shits about  _me_.” Aeiron sighed lightheartedly. “A pity, isn’t it?”

 

            Vilkas silently listened in confusion, wanting to shout at her; but he didn’t know what to say.

            So he beckoned her to continue. “They don’t hate you,” he stated warily.

 

            Her laugh was that of a madwoman. “You’re funny, Vilkas. Really, you are,” Aeiron beamed at him with a demented smile as she rolled up her tunic sleeve and pointed to all of the various bruises and cuts on her arm. “This one,” she began. “Was from when I let a Stormcloak soldier die because I wasn’t there to cover his six.” Aeiron pointed to another one. “This one from not getting to Lucia in time and a Dark Brotherhood assassin almost killing her.” and another. “And this one is from when Ralof got sliced across his back.” and another. “And this one because I let another person die while I could’ve saved them.” and then she pointed at the nastiest scar on her arm, one that cascaded from the back of her hand to her elbow; one that was without a doubt done with a dagger. “And this one,” Aeiron began to cry excessively as she showed him the scar. “Because my father was so  _disgusted_  with me that he didn’t take me with him!”

 

            Vilkas frowned at her, narrowed his eyes and then began slowly taking steps towards her. “They don’t hate you. If anything, you hate  _them_.” Aeiron’s eyes widened at his accusation and she stopped blubbering for a moment. “You  _despise_ them, and you know why you do, but you don’t want to be rejected any more, so you take it out on yourself, trick yourself into thinking that it is the other way around!” His voice began to increase in volume, and Aeiron took one step backwards for each one he took against her.

 

            “No I don’t! They-!” Aeiron began to shout at him.

 

            Vilkas raised his voice at her and closed in the distance between them. “You hate everyone because you think it’s so obvious to see the amount of pain you’re in because you let yourself wallow in it! It’s the first thing that enters your mind and your last thought before you go to sleep! But you wear a mask that makes it almost impossible to see anyth-!”

 

            “That’s because no one  _wants_  to see!” Aeiron cut him off, almost screaming at him. Her voice began to shake the foundation of the temple.

 

            “You keep PUSHING people  _away_! Ysmir’s beard, Woman, stop being so  _stubborn_!” He yelled back at her, at almost the same volume. Aeiron stopped crying abruptly and looked at him with widened eyes. Her lips trembled as her eyes continued to water and blur.

 

            “WHY WOULD YOU CARE?!” she shrieked at him.

 

            Vilkas became startled from her scream.

           

            “ _You_  push people away  _every. Single. Day_. Yet as soon as I do it, you chastise me for it!” Aeiron blurted out. Her hands were beginning to give erratic gestures as her body vividly moved to each word she hollered at him. “Half of the time you don’t  _want_  me around, so why should it matter to YOU how shitty I feel about MYSELF?!”

 

            He let her words soak in as he tried to formulate a reply to return. But Vilkas was rendered utterly speechless. He didn’t feel his face slacken and the air leave his chest as Aeiron’s face changed from frantic to hopeless. “You don’t get it,” she bowed her head and muttered quietly. “No one gets it…” She looked up at him again and narrowed her eyes. “Why are you  _still_  here?”

 

            Vilkas finally let his chest collapse as he released the air he wasn’t aware he had been holding. “Kodlak was concerned about the nature of the dream you were having. He wanted me to keep an eye on you until morning...I told you this already,” he spoke, narrowing his eyes at her. “Gods be damned, Woman. Stop being so stubborn.”

           

            “You first,” she spat at him. Her face abruptly softened and she looked upon him as if he had three heads. “Ralof would’ve ran out by now, being the little pansy he can be at times,” Aeiron chuckled. “He made  _me_  be the one to rescue captured soldiers at Fort Neugrad cause he was too afraid to do it himself. Lydia would’ve been the only one to stay. She would probably slap me first and then hold me while I cry. But you…” She tilted her head to the side as confusion spread across her face. “You’re  _still_  here...Why?”

 

            The Companion relaxed and carefully strode over towards the shaken woman. Aeiron took a step or two back as he approached; her eyes tried to analyze what he would do, but she didn’t know just what to expect from him. Vilkas stopped in front of her; his calm silver eyes watched her frightened gray blues.

 

            “I have a weakness for women in distress,” Vilkas finally answered slowly in a quiet voice.

 

            As much as she wanted storm away from him, she couldn’t. Aeiron laughed dryly at his statement. “I bet that line gets you any woman you want, Wolf.”

 

            The Companion raised an eyebrow. “Not necessarily. If I wanted my way with you, I would’ve said something different.”

 

            “Such as?” she asked.

 

            “I would’ve been saying something along the lines of, ‘So, do you come here often?’”

 

            She exhaled harshly at the pick up line. “By the gods, that was  _horrible_. I know your reputation, Vilkas,” Aeiron smiled lightheartedly. “I don’t think that’s the line that makes them swoon for you and fall into your arms.”

 

            “Then you would be correct, Stormblade,” he answered with his lips tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

            “So what do you say to them?”

 

            Vilkas sighed and let his hand retract from her cheek. “Something meaningless that will get me into bed with them,” he answered, sounding hesitantly. Aeiron stared up at him silently.

 

            “Something like ‘You’re the softest girl’?” she jested. He smiled and shook his head.

 

            “No,” Vilkas answered with a zealous whisper; a smile began to show on his face and he couldn’t hide it.

 

            She tilted her head to the side and blinked at him. “Here’s looking at you, Kid?”

Again, he shook his head. Aeiron frowned. “‘You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how’?” she offered pointlessly.

 

            Once more, he shook his head, chuckling huskily. “Although, I do like the suggestions. I may use them in the future.”

 

            Aeiron raised an eyebrow at this and the smile fell from her face. “So what will you say to me?”

 

            Vilkas exhaled a shaky breath before speaking up, “Stop letting your self hatred consume you. It does more harm than good.”

 

            She stared at him with what looked like glimmering eyes to him. Aeiron offered a pitiful smile, sighing mournfully as she walked past him and back to the stone bed she was on before. Vilkas narrowed his eyes and watched her slowly lie down on the bed. “Aeiron,” he said her name as a warning before he haltingly began approaching her.

 

            “You should go, Vilkas,” she mumbled. If he didn’t have the beast’s blood, he might not have picked it up. Her heart beat was slowing down to an almost alarming rate. “Really, I’ll be fine,” she spoke again.

 

            She was lying to him. Vilkas didn’t need to see her face to know that; he could smell the sorrow radiating off of her.  “What happened when you were asleep?” The Companion asked her. Aeiron stiffened at the tone of his voice, one that vaguely reminded her of how Lydia would sound when treading lightly on a delicate subject. He rounded the bed and knelt down to her eye level.

 

            Aeiron looked away with teary eyes and gnawed on her lip. Vilkas unconsciously let his hand brush the hair away from her eyes and pull it in back of her ear. She seemed to cry more at the gesture. “Aeiron…”

 

            “Hircine was there,” she mumbled. He stopped stroking her head and stared at her disbelievingly. “He tried to get me with a pack of wolves,” Aeiron continued. “My Daddy saved me, he…” she swallowed hard and continued on with a broken voice, “He saved me…and then he  _left_  again.”

 

            Vilkas allowed the mask on his face to finally crack and fall off as she began to quietly weep on the bed. He moved his hand to hers, not even touching it for a second before she grasped it tightly. “We need to tell Kodlak,” he broke the silence between them.

 

            She scoffed. “And what? Tell him I had a bad dream?” Aeiron sounded as pitiful as she looked.

 

            He exhaled calmly. “To let him know you’re not dead would suffice.” Vilkas feigned a comforting smile. “You’ll be fine,  _Little Lioness_.”

 

            Aeiron nodded sluggishly and let her eyes finally close. “Thanks, Wolfy…” she grumbled.

 

He watched as she fell asleep, looking like a completely different person than ten minutes ago. He stayed awake the rest of the night with both thoughts and blood racing.

            

* * *

 

 

            Dawn rose and the sun slowly crawled across the sky as the seconds and minutes passed. Aeiron seemed herself; back to her cheery and clumsy persona as she teased Lucia, who was in her arms, and jested with Farkas, Ralof, Aela, and Vignar standing around her and chatting away.

 

            “Nice to see you’re doing better, Stormblade. We were all worried about losing our top general,” the Jarl jested with a wry smile. Aeiron nodded her head and waved a dismissive hand towards him.

 

            “Stop worrying, Vignar. I’m fine!” she grinned up at him, her other hand was tightly interlocked with Lucia’s as the child sat next to her.

 

            “Talk about having a bad dream,” Farkas huffed out in amusement. Aeiron roared with laughter at the comment.

 

            Vilkas looked on from the far side of the room, standing where the sunlight didn’t dare touch past the pillars in the temple. He leaned against the wall and studied the scene, studied  _her_ : She was brightly beaming at almost everyone, was more energetic, and seemed to resemble the demeanor of a small child, similar to Lucia. Something was amiss.

 

            “Vilkas,” a voice spoke up. He turned his head to see Lydia approach him cautiously. “Have you got a minute?” He pushed himself off of the wall and uncrossed his arms. “I just wanted to thank you for watching her last night,” she began. “I should’ve told-”

 

            “Where did she get the scars on her arms from?” the Companion cut her off. Lydia tensed. “She was raving like a madwoman last night about how no one cared for  _her_...and judging by your reaction, you’ve dealt with this before.”

 

            The Housecarl let out a shaky breath. “She...She has horrible outbursts of that...but was that all that happened last night?”

 

            “Just about,” he answered. “She mentioned something I should tell Kodlak once I get the chance, but for the most part, the only threat was her voice.”

 

            Lydia sighed in relief. “Thank the gods.”

 

            Vilkas frowned at her. “What does she usually do?”

 

            Again, Lydia’s body tensed up as she looked up at him. She pursed her lips before sighing in defeat. “She…she,” she lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. “ _bites_  her arms. Sometimes uses a dagger if she can wrap her fingers around one. When she can barely move her arms, she slams her fists into her head as hard as possible.”

 

            He stared at her with an abashed look. “...How  _long_  has this been going on for?! Why didn’t you  _tell me?!_ ”

 

            Lydia shushed him and gestured her hands to lower his voice. She glanced at the Dragonborn, seeing her still preoccupied with her visitors before turning back to the Companion. “I knew that you would refuse to keep an eye on her last night. I…” the Housecarl lost her voice for a minute and breathed out a sigh of defeat. “I wanted to see how she would act with you. Apparently, she hid a lot from you, and I’m  _sorry_ for the deceit, but it was the  _only_  way.”

 

            “Only way for what?” Vilkas asked while arching an eyebrow.

 

            Lydia sighed once more. “To see if there was any chance of getting her to stop. She must think that you’re important enough to lie to.”

 

            “Then how come you know?”

 

            “I walked in on her doing it the first year I was assigned to her,” she answered. There was a lengthy pause before she continued. “That was about five years ago-”

 

            “You’ve been  _letting_  her do this to herself for the past  _five_  years?!” Vilkas nearly bellowed at her. Lydia moved to silence him again.

 

            “I haven’t been  _letting_ her. Let’s get that straight,” she snapped at him. “She had relapses every once in a while, but when she started getting involved with the Stormcloaks and even chasing down  _Alduin_  took a toll on her. She does this when she’s under a lot of stress!”

 

            Vilkas was quiet for a moment. He looked at her perplexingly before slowly moving his head into a small nod and speaking up again. “Then, what is bothering her so much?”

 

            “I don’t know,” the Housecarl mumbled, turning her attention back to her Thane and the group around her. Vilkas followed her stare and found himself slightly relieved at the sound of her laughter.

 

            "Aeiron's problems are her own. The members of the Companions have enough to worry about as is," he spoke up and walked past her towards the door. “I should go speak with to Kodlak.” When the temple door thundered closed, Aeiron turned her head towards the door as the older men around her continued to talk amongst themselves.

 

            “Aeiron?” Lucia tugged on her mother’s arm.

 

            Aeiron reluctantly looked away from the exit and down at the child. “Hmm?”

 

            The girl smiled up at her. “Is breá liom tú, Mathair."

 

            Aeiron’s mouth hung open for a moment before she beamed at the child. “I love you too, Kid.”

           

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY THIS TOOK FIVE MONTHS. School's killing me with the workload I have. After the first two weeks of May, I should be able to update more easily. In the mean time, let me know what you guys thought? :)

                “Is that all?” Kodlak asked, keeping his eyes focused on the floor. Vilkas stiffly nodded his head and leaned back in his chair opposite of the Harbinger’s. They had been talking for hours now; afternoon had turned into evening before either of them had realized it. He watched as the older man shook his head a few times as he raised it. “Poor child,” he mumbled. Kodlak finally looked up at the wolf. “She sounds like she has a severe guilt, which is not uncommon for her line of work, as she _is_ a soldier, after all.”

                Vilkas narrowed his eyes. He knew better than to assume that was it. “But…”

                The harbinger let out a heavy sigh. “But…her guilt does not stem from that. It sounds like Aeiron is a fragile soul, despite the jaded appearance she portrays. She’s hardened in some areas, but if a person knows where to press…” he didn’t need to finish his sentence. Vilkas got the idea, especially what had happened the previous night. “But Hircine…”

                Kodlak looked up at the younger man and slowly smied. “She’s changed you, my boy,” he spoke up through the thick silence. The wolf narrowed his eyes at the older man, raising a thick eyebrow as if to challenge his statement. The Harbinger went on, “Normally you don’t concern yourself with the troubles of others.”

                Vilkas continued to stare at Kodlak, still scowling. It was Kodlak’s turn to lean back in his chair, smiling gently at the younger man. “She’s more trouble than she’s worth,” Vilkas finally spoke up, looking more annoyed than he had before. The Harbinger raised his eyebrows.

                “You’re obviously troubled by her, otherwise you wouldn’t have come talked to me,” Kodlak replied.

                The wolf rolled his eyes. “The only thing I am troubled by is the beast blood, Kodlak. It’s starting to affect my judgment.”

                “No doubt…” The Harbinger said in agreement, a knowing look in his eyes. “You haven’t slept well since you had encountered those vampires in Falkreath.”

                Vilkas frowned. “There was something different about them, about their scent,” he spoke up, now frowning. “I’ve never come across it before. They were the same one from our last encounter.”

                “I know, I smelled them on you. They were older than most vampires, no?”

                Vilkas nodded.

                “And they wore a ring on their fingers, a silver one with a crest on it, correct?”

                Vilkas nodded again.

                “Philip, Aeiron’s father, had mentioned them once or twice,” Kodlak went on to explain, “but my knowledge is limited to what he had told me about them, about them being long-time enemies with the Celts.”

                The younger Companion tilted his head to the side and gave the older man a quizzical look. “And why is that?”

                “A majority of Celts back in the day became sell-swords or mercenaries. Some joined the old Dawnguard and warred against the Vampires. They were a high demand in the field of combating vampires due to their unique talents, and at one point made vampires an endangered species,” Kodlak answered.

                Vilkas scoffed. “Who would have thought since now they seem to be everywhere.” The small smirk on his face faded. “How come that didn’t last?”

                Kodlak exhaled mournfully. “The Thalmor went on a purge to wipe the Celts off of the face of Nirn. And almost succeeded.”

                The wolf’s eyes widened.

                “About three hundred survived the purge, and their numbers have been thinning since. No doubt that there are only a handful of Celts left in Skyrim,” the Harbinger added.

                They were interrupted when Farkas ran up to them and stopped, hunched over as he caught his breath. “Farkas, what’s wrong?” Kodlak asked as he stood up from his chair. Vilkas immediately followed suit.

                “Someone’s been found dead…in front of the Bannered Mare…Vampire…” The wolf twin panted out. Kodlak and Vilkas shared a glance before turning their attention back to the other Companion.

                “Did Vignar order the city gates closed?” The Harbinger asked gruffly.

                “Yeah,” Farkas replied, sighing heavily one last time before beginning to breathe normally. “No one’s allowed to leave their homes until they catch the monster. All of the guards are patrolling the city now.”

                “Vilkas,” Kodlak turned towards the one wolf. “Go with Aela, Skjor, and Farkas to help the guard find this vampire,” he ordered

                And then it had hit Vilkas like a sword to the heart. “Aeiron,” her name left his mouth in a quiet and sharp breath as something in him snapped. “It’s here for Aeiron,” he spoke louder this time, almost growling out the sentence. He began marching down the hallway before he even realized it. His feet were moving on their own.

                “Vilkas!” Whitemane called out. The said wolf turned briskly on his heal to face the Harbinger, eyes tinted a luminous amber. “Be careful!”

                Vilkas nodded his head silently and briskly made his exit from the living quarters, almost running out of the mead hall. His heart was hammering away like a drum in his head with the beast’s howling racing through his blood.

                He made his way down to Breezehome. His armor was surprisingly light, or maybe it was his disregard of everything around him; the guards hollering after him, the burning in his lungs, how tense his body had become.  Vilkas jogged to the door of the small home and pounded on the door with the side of his arm.

                Lydia had an anxious look in her eye when she opened it. “Vilkas?” she seemed surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Lucia was behind her, and she smiled and waved at the man when she saw him.

                “Is Aeiron here?” He asked hurriedly in one breath with the words almost jumbled together. The Housecarl looked at him and swallowed nervously before shaking her head.

                “No…” she answered shyly.  “She’s still at the temple. Danica and Jenssen wanted to keep her overnight just in case—what’s going on?”

                “Shit,” the Companion cursed under his breath and began shifting restlessly in place. He turned his head when he heard running feet pass by the house. The guards had their swords drawn as they ran after a shadow.

                “It’s heading towards the Wind District!”

                “Follow it!”

                “Don’t lose sight of the monster!”

                His body was _aching_ to be in motion, to get to wherever she was. He turned around and ran after them. Lydia called after him, but he didn’t hear her; the blood thundering in his head drowned out her voice.

                He just kept running until he reached the Temple of Kynerath, past the guards surrounding the front of the temple almost colliding with the door. He banged on it.

                _“Someone get this door open!”_

                No answer.

                Tried pushing the door open.

                _“We can’t lose the monster!”_

                It was locked, barred from the other side.

                He kept trying. “Aeiron!” he shouted, still trying the jerk the door open. He would rip it off the hinges if he had to. “ _Aeiron!_ ” Vilkas shouted her name louder this time. Still no response from inside.

_“Isn’t Stormblade still in there?!”_

                “Son of a _bitch_!” he growled and took a few steps away from the door, looking up towards the top of the building while blowing out all of the air in his lungs. Vilkas froze and bared his teeth. He could smell the vampire inside the Temple with Aeiron.

                And _blood_

                He drew his greatsword with only one hand.

* * *

 

                It was a good thing she told Jenssen and Danica to head for Dragonsreach and bring their other patients with them. She already knew why that vile creature was here in Whiterun, especially in the city.

                She had brought it here.

                And there was no reason why anyone else should die because of her; because of her stupidity. Lucia, Lydia, Ralof, Farkas, Aela, Skjor… _Vilkas_.

                At least she didn’t drag them into this mess she created. _Again_.

                This would end it, though. Or so she hoped.

                The healers would be there until the dawn of the next day, when there would be a corpse in the temple, hers or the vampire’s. And now that she thought about it, it would most likely be hers. She stood up from her bed and slowly walked under the skylight where the moonlight seeped in. The Celt turned around and faced the door lurking in the shadows. She was on her own.

                No one would help her this time. Every citizen of the city would most likely be chickening behind the safety of their doors, clutching wooden stakes and onions like a vice. The guards would all be busy defending Vignar and his family. The Companions would be guarding Jorrvaskr like it was a princess’ chastity and wouldn’t let anyone inside. Not even _her_. She was still hoping someone would come and save her. Maybe her father would, just like he always had in the past.

                Maybe Vilkas would… She shook her head and laughed at her own foolish thoughts.

                Aeiron only had the small iron dagger she always kept strapped to her thigh to defend herself. And so she waited, keeping her eyes trained on the barred door to the temple.

                She drew her dagger, let her fingers twirl it in their grip as she looked down at the blade and then back up at the door. It was coming, and _fast_. It was unnerving.

                _Ten…Nine…Eight…Seven…Six…_

                There were mere seconds left. Aeiron made her movements more frantic, feeling ice cold blood running through her veins at this point as she began to shake. It was a Nightmaster Vampire. Of all things it could have been it had to be _that_ ; the strongest.

                … _Three…_

                She didn’t want this.

_…Two…_

                It should be ending like this.

_…One._

But it was, and she wouldn’t go down without a fight, even though she wanted to run.

                “Nice of you to finally drop by,” she spoke aloud casually, looking up towards the door. A fog of bats appeared in the glow of the dim moon, and soon a pale face and a pair of red eyes were staring back at her. He seemed to look at her as though she were a gourmet meal prepared just for him.

                “Lord Harkon sends his regards,” the dunmar vampire spoke, accent thick with arrogance.

                _“Aeiron!_ ” she heard Vilkas call. Her heart sank in her throat. _“AEIRON!”_ more pounding and rattling of the door followed his voice. She heard him curse under his breath.

                Aeiron braced herself, swallowing hard. “He can take his regards and shove them up his nether regions.”

                And then the vampire disappeared from view. Her eyes widened, scanning the room around her, body trembling as she breathed heavier than she wanted to. The seconds began ticking by and the silence was _killing_ her.

                She swallowed hard, waiting, waiting, _waiting_.

                It appeared right in front of her. It snarled as it lunged for her.

                Miraculously, she was able to mostly dodge his attack. Blood began seeping over her eye from a large gash from the crown of her head. Her dagger glistened bright red.

                The vampire himself sported a small knick on his arm. He looked down at it almost as if he didn’t feel it and chuckled. He looked back up at her and his face contorted into something akin to a daedra.

                Divines help her.

* * *

 

                Vilkas swung at the door again. For the fifth time.

                But it still wouldn’t open. The Stormcloaks in back of him stood a few feet away from him, afraid to cross the wolf when he was seething rage off of his very body. What scared them even more was that his facial features began looking _wolf_ -like.

                He heaved his greatsword and raised it into the air once more to bring it down onto the doors. Another slice through the wood was made, but the doors were still erect _and still in his way._

                The smell of blood was the only thing fueling his adrenaline at this point; blood and _her_. He could hear her frantic movements on the other side of the door, smell her fear; smell her _blood_.

                He could smell the vampire’s blood, but there was less of it. Aeiron’s drowned the monster’s smell by tenfold. She was in no condition to fight for her life.

                And that was driving him _mad_. Vilkas could almost see the door in front of him tinted with a repulsive hue of _red_.

                _Red, red, red._

He heard her cries of pain.

                The vampire’s laughter and hisses of pain following.

                Aeiron’s labored movements.

                “Fus Roh Dah!”

                The whole building shook and his sword vibrated from the sheer force of her thu’um. She never shouted. _Never_.

                His anger grew. The beast was barking at him to hurry up, to get to her faster. And he wasn’t trying to shut the beast out this time. Vilkas was indulging the wolf’s words with a sadistic anger that was bringing him to the breaking point.

                And finally he snapped; thrusting the sword through the crack between the two doors, snarling as he brought it down to where the beam was. His hands shook as he gripped the hilt of his sword between his hands. He heard the call, the pounding in his ears. Vilkas brought the sword back and swung the blade down.

                He heard the bar splinter and break into two in the middle. The Companion brought his sword back roughly and kicked the doors in. He saw the vampire’s corpse slump down to meet the floor as he entered the temple, dagger in his heart.

                Vilkas looked up at Aerion and saw her arm still extended in the air, panting heavily and tunic soaked in blood and severely torn. She had a large gash over her stomach and several cuts up and down her arms. Almost half of her face was covered in blood from the cut hidden in her hair.

                She didn’t look like the Aeiron he knew; who looked either enraged or was smirking triumphantly after a kill. No, this Aeiron looked on the verge of tears as her legs wobbled and her breathing was dilapidated and her whole appearance battered and torn. Her arm fell back to her side and she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, even as the Stormcloaks entered behind him.

                “Stormblade!”

                “General!”

                “Thane!”

                “Dragonborn!”

                They yelled her titles in greeting, but she paid no mind to them, and neither did Vilkas. She stared at his yellow eyes and new patches of hair that had appeared on his face, almost like sideburns. And she saw his sharpened canines and watch all of these features recede into Vilkas’ normal appearance.

                Her body burned all over, and where she wasn’t cut, she was freezing from the blood that covered her skin.

                “Vilkas,” she mumbled breathlessly. He straightened up and one of his hands had let go of the sword’s hilt. The other hand’s grip on the sword began to loosen as he watched her sway where she stood on uneasy legs and feet.

                And then her knees finally gave in. Vilkas immediately dropped the sword and ran towards her, catching her in his arms before she hit the ground. He looked down at her, watched as her closed eyes twitched and then opened to look back up at him. They began to tear up. “Vilkas,” she spoke softly, pursing her lips breathing weakly. She lost a lot of blood. If he didn’t do something…

                He pulled her towards him and turned to look over his shoulder. “Where is Danica?” he barked at the soldiers. They all stared at him before one of them answered, seeing the anger return in his eyes. They were amber again.

                “At Dragonsreach, they went there with the others in the temple…” the words died out on the soldier’s lips as he watched the Companion stand up with Aeiron in his arms and broodingly walk past him, marching out of the temple and hastily making his way towards the Jarl’s palace.

                At this time, some of Whiterun’s residents had begun poking their heads out from behind their house doors and stepping out onto the street when word reached them that the vampire was dead.

                Vilkas didn’t stop for the curious people who tried to ask what had happened, for the guards who were shocked to see their general in such horrible shape, and not even for his brother, Aela, Skjor or any of the other Companions who ran up to him when they saw him ascend the stairs towards the Gildergreen.

                Vilkas kicked the doors to Dragonsreach open, ignoring the guards’ warning and the drawing of their swords when they warned him he was not supposed to be there.

                Vignar’s eyes widened when he saw Vilkas approach with Aeiron in his arms. Danica and Jenssen rose from their seats at the long table as they watched the Companion walk past. He stopped in front of the Jarl and turned his head to either side before looking the Jarl icily. “Where are Danica and Jenssen?” he asked in an uneasy voice. Vignar couldn’t help but fear for his life the way the man looked at him. The old man’s eyes trailed down to Aeiron and her disheveled appearance.

                “What happened to her?” The Jarl barked, frowning.

                “I won’t ask again, old man!” Vilkas growled.

                “How dare you talk to me like that!” Vignar shouted.

                “Where are Danica and Jenssen?” The wolf asked again, louder this time and more threatening.

                “We’re right here,” The priestess spoke up, breaking the tension between the two. Jenssen followed her.

                Vilkas turned and faced them. He then looked down at Aeiron, who was breathing heavily and fighting to keep her eyes open. “She’s lost a lot of blood,” he spoke quietly. “The floor was covered when I got to her.”

                Danica and Jenssen exchanged a look before looking back at the Companion. “Follow me,” the priestess said and turned to lead him the living quarters of the reach. Vilkas followed her and Jenssen into the Jarl’s guest rooms and set her down on one of the beds, trying not to jostle Aeiron as he set her down.

                She looked up at him again, her eyes slits that were barely open. The blue of her irises looked so dim, so lifeless. “Vilkas,” she mumbled again.

                “Shhhh,” Vilkas kneeled beside her and brushed the stray hairs away from her face. The somewhat wet blood smeared on her cheek. “You’re going to be alright,” he said, cupping her cheek and running his thumb over the blood-covered skin.                    

                Aeiron shakily gripped his hand, eyes tearing up again. The words she wanted to say were choked up in her throat. It was almost as if she were terrified of him leaving.

                “Help me get her tunic off,” Danica spoke to Vilkas as she tried to get Aeiron to sit up. He quickly took off his gauntlets and threw them somewhere behind him. He gripped the hem of her tunic and began lifting it up. The gash across her stomach was a nasty one, even to him. It was about the size of an ebony dagger and wasn’t a clean cut. Blood kept seeping out of the wound until Danica pressed some cloth to it. “Keep some pressure on this,” she told him after they removed Aeiron’s tunic.

                Vilkas complied and pressed as much as he could without hurting her. Aeiron hissed and groaned. “Ow.” Her voice was weak as her breathing.

                The priestess moved her hair away from the cut and flinched when she saw it. “I swear, Aeiron, you always make me treat the wounds that make me lose my supper,” she spoke annoyed.

                Aeiron laughed through her nose and smiled tiredly. “Love you, too,” she replied groggily.

                Vilkas rolled his eyes and the corners of his mouth formed a small smile. Leave it to her to come joke around while she’s on her deathbed.

                Aeiron sighed and closed her eyes, breathing more evenly now. “So tired…”

                “Not yet, Aerion,” Danica chided. “We have to stitch you up first.”          

                She didn’t listen.

                 

                                 


	23. Chapter 23

            _Aeiron panted heavily. Her head was pounding and she was beginning to find it hard to stand on her feet. The vampire chuckled lowly, keeping his eyes on her. “You’re stronger than you look, Celt,” he remarked, tongue sliding over his fangs. “Most people wouldn’t have been able to dodge that.”_

_She remained silent, still trying to filter air to her burning lungs. Her grip on her dagger tightened as her body tensed more. Aeiron licked the blood off of her lips in anticipation._

_Something began banging on the doors, cutting into it and trying to get to the other side. The Nightwalker eyed the door for a moment before directing his attention back to her._

_“You know,” he spoke up again. “That werewolf is trying_ awfully _hard to get in here. I wonder what you mean to him.”_

_Aeiron narrowed her eyes at the monster. “What ‘re you gettin’ at?”_

_He laughed this time. “After I’m done with you, I’ll enjoy playing with that mangy mutt out there!”_

_The blows to the doors grew louder. Aeiron’s eyes became fixated on the doors as she saw them being pushed forward every time Vilkas swung his sword at them. She then looked back at the Nightmaster. He was gone._

_The next thing she processed was her back being torn open. She screamed and fell to the floor. Her dagger fell out of her hand and clattered on the ground a few inches away from her. The vampire snarled with a wicked grin on his face and pulled his arm back, nails shimmering with her blood. His eyes were set on where her heart was profusely beating. He shocked her with a handful of electricity and she screamed._

_He lunged at her. Aeiron grabbed her dagger and rolled out of the way. She jumped up and away from him, feet skidding her body to a stop. The vampire vaporized in the air and reemerged only a foot away from her with a vile grin on his face and his fangs aimed for her throat._

_Aeiron dodged out of the way again, slicing her dagger through his lower back and muscle before spinning around and kicking him away from her. The Nightmaster crashed into one of the Temple’s pillars. She winced in pain and looked down at her left arm to see her forearm slashed open._

_The vampire came at her the next instant and throttled her into the opposite puller. She groaned and slumped to the ground, dagger falling out of her hand beside her. He sauntered over and grabbed her by her throat. Aeiron’s hand began desperately clawing at his as he began to squeeze. Another jolt of electricity ran through her. She screamed. The blows to the door became more aggressive._

_“Oh, he seems_ mad _,” he scoffed. “I wonder...does he love you?”_

_Aeiron narrowed her eyes at his sanguine ones and briefly saw amber ones looking at her. She loosened her grip on the vampire’s hands, the life ebbing from her throat into his red, glowing hands._

_The Nightmaster turned his attention back to the doors when he saw the doors splintering and bulging forward, almost as if they would open at any second. He threw Aeiron to the ground and began walking towards the doors. Vilkas’ sword had just made contact with the wooden bar and it would only be seconds before the doors would be broken open._

_Aeiron wheezed and gasped for air, one hand around her throat as she blinked her eyes and looked towards her dagger. She slowly reached out a shaky hand and grasped it before pushing her body off of the ground. Every muscle was on fire and her body felt like it would fall apart if she were not still. Her mouth tasted of blood; the taste made her stomach turn as she rose._

Ten...Nine...Eight…

_The Nightmaster licked his fangs with anticipation and stopped a few feet in front of the door and raised his hand. A ghastly ball of purple emerged from his hand and swelled there, beginning to grow. The lion roared in her head. “Get up!” she felt the beast growl in her blood._

Seven...Six...Five…

_Aeiron almost bounced onto her feet. The weight of everything around her vanished and she couldn’t feel her torn flesh or her bones that were on fire. Time seemed to stand still as her eyes glowed a vibrant ice blue._

...Three……….Two……….

_She whistled loudly, already drawing her arm back and aiming the dagger. The Nightmaster frowned in apparent confusion and turned to face her. “How are you-”_

_..._ ONE.

_Aeiron hurled the iron dagger through the air as hard as she could, gasping in pain as she suddenly felt her right arm flare up from the motion. The small blade whirled through the air and impaled itself through the vampire’s chest. His eyes widened as his voice was abruptly cut off. His body slumped as Aeiron heard a growl and the doors broke open._

_And there he was, rage painted over his face by pure animal instinct and emotion compared to the man who was usually aloof and stoic. But at that moment when the air left his lungs in a relieved sigh and choked up in hers as if it were violently stuffed down there, she suddenly was aware of how much of a wreck she looked, how much the floor was painted red and was still sticky below her feet._

_The amber glare in his eyes died out with the cerulean light of hers. And his name left her lips before she felt lighter than air finally felt her knees give. His face was the only thing that wasn’t entirely blurry in her scope of vision as she vaguely registered him carrying her towards Dragonsreach, snapping and growling at anyone and everyone who happened to be in his way, including Vignar. And then the next thing she knew Danica was dressing the gash on her stomach._

             _Another scar among the vast collection she already had along her pale body. The priestess blurred in with the black fog surrounding her line of sight. Vilkas faded away last, but his voice rumbling was the last thing she heard and his hand on her face was the last thing she felt before finally falling into a void of black._

 _“Aeiron…”_  

* * *

Ralof looked away as they drew the tarp over the body lying on the street. The morning sun was shining brilliantly, mocking the city of Whiterun almost and stomping on the corpse of the deceased. It had been a long night, and now it was finally over. 

            But the price paid was in the death of an unknown person to the city. Ralof had pondered over the corpse’s terror-stricken face until his stomach had begun to do backflips. He should’ve known it would’ve gone for her. Of all the people in Whiterun, Aeiron was the greatest target, with Ralof possibly being the next one.

            He was the “Celt-in-Training”, as Stormblade labeled him. According to her, he didn’t have much ways to go before taking the final test, whatever that would be. He might not even have it now with how critical her condition is. 

            The captain squatted back down and pulled the tarp back, staring into the corpse’s dead eyes. He studied the body in small increments, starting with the head and working his way down to the torso, the arms, the hands... _hello._  

            Ralof blinked his eyes once or twice and narrowed them at the ring on the dead man’s finger; an owl with the same type of carvings surrounding it as the bow Aeiron got him and the axe she carried on her back. The ring was worn and tarnished with dry blood imbedded in the carvings. He sighed mournfully and took the ring from the hand. “Trevor...Aeiron’s not going to like this,” he mumbled. His hands immediately went for the dead man’s pockets and searched them briskly. He found a note that was worn and weather stained. Ralof pocketed the note and picked up the ring before he stood up. 

He didn’t hear Sidmir walking up to him and jolted when the Guard Captain clasped the captain’s shoulder firmly.

“Any luck, Ralof?” the Guard Captain asked.

The other Nord shook his head and eyed the covered body again, careful to slip the ring into a pocket Sidmir couldn’t see. Two other guards were now hoisting the corpse onto a wooden cart. “Still no leads as to who he is,”  he replied.

Sidmir nodded his head and turned slowly on his heels until he faced Ralof again. “The Jarl wants to see you,” he spoke up, changing the topic.

Ralof nodded and departed from the scene without uttering another word. Sidmir watched him walk away until he turned his attention to the two soldiers carrying the body. “Make sure to burn it! We don’t want another vampire incident tonight!” 

The captain made the trudge up to Dragonsreach brewing in his own thoughts. His hand touched the pocket that contained the ring once or twice with the dead man’s face burned into his vision. He passed by the other guards silently and stopped walking when he reached the small bridge to the front doors. Ralof looked up, sighing heavily as he shook from uneasy nerves.

He sucked in a long breath and marched into the keep, up the stairs to the eating area, and towards the Jarl of Whiterun.

“You wanted me, Vignar?” Ralof asked, approaching the Jarl sitting in his throne. The Gray-Nane immediately sat up straight and gave the captain a welcoming smile.

“Ralof,” the old man greeted. “Any good news about last night’s incident?”

The captain’s body tensed and relaxed as he inhaled deeply. “We were unable to identify the victim. He’s not from around here,” he answered.

The Jarl nodded and bowed his head, resting it against his fist while he contemplated. “Did you find anything on his person that might help us identify the poor fellow?”

“No, Sir.”

Vignar sighed in annoyance and looked towards the fire pit. He cursed under his breath.

Ralof swallowed the lump in his throat and clenched his fists tightly. “The general...how is she?” he rasped.

The Jarl again shook his head. “Not well, I’m afraid. That damned vampire did more of a number on her than we thought. Were it not for her, we might not have stopped it, but…”

Ralof held his breath as he waited for Vignar to finish.

“...she lost a lot of blood. When Vilkas got to her last night, the floor was coated with it from my understanding.”

“I know,” the captain replied with a shaky voice. “I went there this morning.”

The Jarl gave him an empathetic grimace. “I’m sorry, Ralof. This must be hard on you. I know you two...are close. Galmar has stated again and again how you two covered each other’s backs in battle, and now…”

Ralof gritted his teeth and his knuckles turned white. “I _know_.”

Vignar paused for a moment before speaking up once more. “Danica said in a few hours Aeiron will be up for visitors. Why don’t you come back then?”

“I’ll wait here, thanks,” the captain rebutted, taking a seat at the longtable and fishing out a short stump of wood and his iron dagger from its sheath.

He decided to carve a lion with a flowy and full mane and defiant, strong eyes. He wasn’t planning to go anywhere anytime soon, and she was always fond of his woodcarvings.

 

* * *

_Aeiron awoke with a start when she felt something sniff her hair. She sat up in one swift motion and turned to see a familiar pair of blue eyes staring at her. “Oh,” she relaxed and reached her hand out to scratch the lion’s ear. “Hey.”_

_The cat hummed and bent its head into her hand._

_“Haven’t seen you in a while,” she continued. The lion opened one eye playfully and nudged her. Aeiron laughed and playfully rubbed both sides of the lion’s face. “Alright, alright, I’ll get up, you stupid cat.” The long blades of grass rustled beneath them as she stood to get up and the lion moved away from her. The night air was eerily silent as a breeze drifted by the two. Looking up, Aeiron saw that it was a full moon and a partially overcast sky above._

_She turned to the lion, who gave her a teasing look. “What are we doing here?” The cat made a puffing sound and circled around her. Aeiron turned after the cat and watched it beginning to saunter away from her. It walked a few paces before stopping and turning around to face Aeiron. The lion sat down on the grass and watched her._

_Aeiron tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as she cautiously approached the beast. “Okay…?” She stopped about a foot in front of the large cat and batted her eyes at it, waiting for it to make its next move. The lion bowed its head and pointed its nose at an object in the ground; a dead owl. Blood had painted the surrounding blades of grass sanguine._

_Aeiron’s face slackened as she apprehensively knelt down to the ground and picked up the dead bird. Her hands trembled as she held it. “...Trevor…” the dead man’s name left her lips with a shaky breath. The owl’s eyes were wide open with dried blood around its neck. One wing was broken. Tears watered in her eyes as she looked back up at the lion in shock._

_The lion began to growl, immediately standing up and bearing its canines. Aeiron frowned in confusion. “Hey...what’s wrong?” She slowly turned to look over her shoulder. A sudden chill ran up her spine. She screamed and her back collided with the lion's legs as she pushed herself backwards as it came rushing towards her._

_She couldn't do anything else except clutch the dead bird to her chest._

* * *

The dull sound of laughter muffled by walls reached her ears as she gently stirred from her slumber. She heard something strike wood and grind along its surface, slowly and meticulously. A thick accented voice hummed a song she recognized after a few hazy seconds. Aeiron opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Her lungs finally exhaled in relief.

“Stormblade,” Ralof greeted with a smile, looking down at her and briefly pausing from his woodcarving. The general turned to look at him and smiled tiredly.

“Hiya Cap’n,” she replied with a dry voice. Ralof shaved away a few more bits of wood before presenting his gift to her. She chuckled weakly and picked up her arm lazily to take it from him. Her eyes beheld the lion miniature with some humor. Aeiron looked at him again. “For me?”

“I figured it would cheer you up,” he laughed in reply, sheathing his dagger and finally leaning back in his chair beside the bed. The Nord watched as she set the lion onto the nightstand by her bed.

“How long have I been out?” she asked. Her eyes directed themselves to the door where the loud voices seemed to come from. Apparently Vignar was having a banquet at this time.

“Over a day, almost two.”

“Oh. I thought it was more.”

“Thankfully not,” the smile fell from his face as he kept his eyes locked with hers. Ralof finally looked away. “Listen, the person they found-”

“It was Trevor,” Aeiron interjected quietly. “I...I know.” 

Ralof looked away, lips drawn into a thin line. He then searched through his pockets and handed her the paper and ring. “He had these on him. I figure I would take them, see if you wanted them. Sidmir...burned the body already,” he sighed with a heavy heart.

Aeiron closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. She took the items from his hand, examining the ring first. It was _definitely_ Trevor’s. Her thumb brushed over the carvings of the jewelry piece as she stared at it for a moment before eyeing the captain again. She placed the ring next to the lion before picking up the paper with a lithe grip and slowly unfolding the parchment. Her eyes skimmed over the parchment.

There were more signs on the parchment.

Ralof frowned after she was silent for a good few minutes. “What does it say?” he asked.

“It’s about,” she paused hesitantly. Her eyes remained glued to the paper. “the vampire attacks. Apparently the old Dawnguard is forming back up. Vampire attacks and sightings have gone up drastically over the past few months. Meanwhile, the Thalmor Embassy has been having unusual traffic in and out for the last three weeks. And…” Aeiron’s eyes skimmed the paper further down.

The captain’s eyes widened as he looked at her petrified look while she read the letter.

“...apparently a vampire has infiltrated the royal court in Windhelm...Trevor was going to exploit him, but they found out...so he was going to me for help…”

“Damn monsters,” Ralof grumbled under his breath. “We’ll need to go take care of th-”

Aeiron grabbed his arm harshly. “If you send in the military to take care of this, it’ll just become a bloodbath.” she looked at him sternly. “This is for a scalpel, not a hammer.”

Ralof’s confused face contorted into an angry one. “Are you _nuts_ woman? You just nearly _DIED_. Everyone in Whiterun almost lost you. _I_ almost lost you-”

“Cut the crap, Ralof. I’m not as dumb as you think.”

He nearly jumped back at her tone of voice.

“ _You’re_ going to take care of it. I’ll come along for support. It’ll give me time to heal and shit. Ulfric’s been wanting to see me for some time so I’ll be killing two birds with an axe. And besides…,” she grinned impishly while patting the captain on the shoulder. He was still scowling at her. “think of it as your last assignment before you’re official.”

Ralof slowly smirked as the seconds ticked by. “You mean…”

“Mhmm. You’ll be a Celt.”

He arched an eyebrow. “But why not just let me go alone?”

Aeiron sighed in annoyance. “The last time I turned my back on you was for ten seconds and in that time you managed to get your back sliced open. _Not_ happening again. Especially since we’ll be dealing with another Nightmaster.”

Ralof’s jaw dropped. “ _Another?_ ”

“Yeah yeah, now let me get some sleep, Deartháir. I’m tired,” she waved him off dismissively. He stared at her for about a minute or two before speaking up again.

“But…” he sighed and shook his head, smiling. She was already tuning him out. “Alright. Get some sleep, Stormblade,” he got up and made his way towards the room. Aeiron groaned in response. Once the door closed behind him, she attempted to roll onto her side. She stopped midway after feeling like she was stabbed, cringing and gritting her teeth in response.

Aeiron lied back down on her back and shyly looked towards the door where Ralof left. Vilkas must have left through the same door some time ago. She exhaled sadly and stared up at the ceiling until she could fall asleep again.

  


 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SO SORRY THIS IS LATE. I FINALLY GRADUATED FROM HIGH SCHOOL SO YAY :D  
> Any feedback would be wonderful for this shitty chapter lol

                It was another night at Jorrvaskr and Vilkas’ head was _still_ throbbing from all of the chatter in the halls, the loud voices booming from all the way upstairs by the long table. The book on the Gaelic language Kodlak had given him was slowly being absorbed by his brain, but at a slower pace than he was happy with. With all the different phrasing and pronunciations, his tongue rolled and twisted in ways that he didn’t think possible until now.  

                He hadn’t slept for the last few days.

                The beast wouldn’t let him.

                It was restless as it paced back and forth, refusing to rest, refusing to stop keeping a lookout for whatever it sensed it needed to be on guard for. The vampire’s blood was still fresh in his mind, tainting the taste of the ale he tried to drown it out with and the few scarce meals he had tried to have.  Lucia had been in Jorrvaskr asking when Aeiron was coming out, and they all said the same thing to her

                _“When Aeiron finishes her important business with the Jarl.”_

 _“But she’s been there for_ DAYS _!”_

 _When the Jarl is_ finished _with her,” Aela sternly told her earlier today. “Now be a good girl and run along. Go play with Braith or some of the younger kids.”_

 _“I hate Braith,” the girl mumbled as she lowered her head in disappointment. She held freshly picked flowers and herbs, hoping to give them to Aeiron._ They were her mother’s favorites, as she insisted, but it didn’t work. Luckily for her, Farkas had agreed to spend the day with her and Lydia, no doubt to spend some time with the Housecarl, but the child had grown on him, as well as most of the other companions. And even Vilkas himself.

                Telling her the truth would do the child more harm than good. She shouldn’t have to know that her adopted mother’s life is still hanging by a thread to a certain degree. He had overheard the chatter of her condition from the people conversing in the mead hall.

                _“She’s tired.”_

_“She is very weak”_

_“She can barely keep her eyes open.”_

_“Her voice is a quiet whisper if anything else.”_

_“The poor girl…”_

                Lucia always insisted on seeing her, but they caged her out of Dragonsreach. She was being barred the same way he remembered when he was younger and the higher members of the Circle pushed him around. Lucia bought the lie, but was not completely ignorant to the situation at hand. Aerion was raising her well, despite her frequent trips away home with Stormcloak or Dragonborn business. But all the same, Vilkas couldn’t help but agree that it was best to keep her from finding out the truth, for now.

                It was a half-truth, he had quickly come to realize. Vignar would probably want a report out of her about where the vampire was from and what its motives were. And then there was a good chance he would send her off on some Stormcloak business to wherever the Jarl wanted her to go. She was at their beck and calls constantly, but he noticed despite the weary and reluctance obviously on her face, she never refused them. She never said “no” or said she had enough of fighting.

                But that night with the vampire showed she had. She was tired of fighting for her life, with Divines know what lurking around the next corner.

                “Shor’s bones,” he groaned, grabbing the bridge of his nose while trying to concentrate through his foggy mind. His breathing was strained as his head throbbed. The beast blood was relentless.

                And Farkas wasn’t helping with his loud and boisterous music just across the hall coming from his room. Apparently they were celebrating something in his room. He could care less what it was so long as it would just _stop_!

                When he heard the first chords strummed on the lute, he knew it was all far from over as his twin began a ballad, clearly well intoxicated by his tone deaf voice. “As I came home on Morndas night, as drunk as drunk could be…~”

                The moon had already reached its highpoint in the high sky and began its descent back down towards the horizon when Vilkas finally made up his mind, despite still being torn over his decision.  He closed the book in his hand and tossed it at the foot of the bed before getting up and leaving his room, briskly walking down the long corridor. The beast blood wouldn’t rest in his veins. He still saw her face at night; the look in her eyes continued to haunt him. It clawed at his heart and pained his chest when he recalled the vile stench of blood that flooded the room that trailed out all the way to Breezehome, and no doubt Jorrvaskr.

                He was feeling too restless now, on edge and waiting for something to happen to her. But why should _he_ go visit her? Damned woman had the entire city guard at her beck and call, as well as that Stormcloak captain who followed her everywhere like a lost puppy. The other side of his mind argued that they weren’t enough to stop that damned vampire that nearly killed her, and the scary part was that it almost _did_.

                The night air was chillier than usual. His breaths came out in small clouds of smoke that spread out far until they dispersed into the nighttime air. His armor kept the cold night at bay as it gave off muffled sounds with every movement he made. It felt as though snow would come falling down at any second, or maybe it was too cold for snow. Vilkas had holed himself up in his room after the incident and had not made an appearance outside of his quarters until now. Being outside now felt almost as it here were experiencing it for the first in a long period of time.

                He walked past the guards on the narrow bridge to Dragonsreach in silence, eyes glancing at them once or twice before he entered the large castle. Vignar had gone to bed by now, the throne empty and his steward, Housecarl, and daughter nowhere to be found. The silence that hung heavy in the air was different than the one he was used to on an average night in Whiterun, or anywhere else he had been. His head wouldn’t stop racing. Vilkas couldn’t stop thinking about her.

                No guards were by the doors to the guest residences to stop him, much to his convenience. He hurried the rest of the way, her scent suddenly hitting him like a giant’s club. Vilkas followed it, looking around for any other guards.

                There were none.

                He reached out for the door knob before turning around sharply, glaring at the shadows as he drew his greatsword. “Show yourself, sneak thief,” he snarled. A low chuckle reached his years as a redheaded man emerged from a dark corner across the hallway.

                “You don’t miss a thing, do you, Companion?” the thief smirked with green eyes glistening with mischief. Vilkas glared at him and began to bare his teeth at the man, grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. “You can put that sword away, I didn’t come here to rob the Jarl of his riches.”

                “Then why _are_ you here?”

                Brynjolf scoffed. “To visit my cousin, why else?”

                Vilkas frowned. “You know Aeiron?”

                “Longer than you have, Companion. She would be rather unhappy if you were to kill me, I _am_ one of the few remaining people she calls ‘family’.”

                The wolf lowered his sword a bit at the statement.  “You’re a Celt?”

                The thief nodded wordlessly and pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning against, making his way over to Vilkas. “Aye, I am,” he said.

                Vilkas frowned. “I don’t believe you.”

                Brynjolf laughed dryly at this. “I don’t expect you to, but I see you’ve taken a liking to my cousin,” he smirked and nodded towards the door. “Everyone likes her, well, _almost_ everyone.”

                Vilkas looked at the door and then back to him, studying him cautiously, now lowering his sword. “Why are the vampires after _her_?” his voice grew strained.

                “Because of who she is, and that she’s Philip Leon-Croi’s daughter,” the thief casually answered.

                “She’s been searching for him for the past five years,” the wolf eyed the thief sternly.

                “He’s been around, but there are things even he not dare drag his ‘princess’ into. The truth of the matter is that there are things she’s been kept out of for her wellbeing, but unfortunately are not working anymore,” Brynjolf walked a little closer to the Companion, standing four or five feet away from him now. “On the night he disappeared from Aeiron’s life, there was an ambush outside their home in Falkreath. A group of Vampires from Lord Harkon’s ranks swarmed the place, and she slept through the entire thing. Phil fought all of them off and decided to keep his distance from her for her safety. He kissed her forehead before leaving the house.”

                “How do you know this?”

                “I spoke to him a while back, a year or two ago,” the thief replied. “We happened to run into each other at a tavern.  He misses her, a lot…”

                Vilkas growled at him, suddenly remembering Jergen leaving him at the door to go fight in the war, ruffling his hair one last time and promising to be back by the boy’s next birthday. He never was.

                “He’s doing her a disservice by avoiding her,” he snapped. “Doesn’t he realize how much she’s hurting while she’s looking for him. She blames herself for the reason why he left! Why don’t you tell her _anything_?!”

                Brynjolf sighed knowingly with softened eyes. “Because if I did, she would immediately bolt after him. The girl loves him too much, like a shadow loves its owner or a drunkard loves cheap ale. She would most likely get herself hurt, or _killed_ , looking for him.”

                Vilkas turned his head away, the one hand he was holding his sword in tightened on the weapon’s hilt at the helplessness of the truth.

                “Believe it or not, you met them when you were younger, you and your brother.”

                The wolf looked back up at the fox with a startled look. “… _What?_ ”

                Brynjolf smirked casually, crossing his arms. “I should get going now. Tell Aeiron to look me up next time she comes to Riften.”

                Vilkas wasn’t given a chance to refuse before Brynjolf disappeared into the shadows. He faintly heard a door open and close a few seconds later, but nothing else followed except the warm silence of the keep.  He sheathed his sword finally and turned to face the door to Aeiron’s room. His body was hesitant to move for whatever reason, limbs feeling like lead as he began to walk towards the door.

                His hand settled on the door knob for a moment. Blood still lingered in the air; she still reeked of it. He swallowed hard, eyeing the knob and then looking back up before pulling the door open. The candles were dim by her bedside, almost melted down completely to the base. She slept in a small bed, hair splayed over the pillows beneath her with her arms at her sides. He eyed the wooden lion atop the nightstand before looking back at her. His feet felt heavy as he slowly approached her, holding air in his lungs unconsciously.

                Vilkas loomed over her at her bedside, watching her chest rise and fall rhythmically, her lips slightly parted and the angry marks on her body appearing where her tunic couldn’t conceal them by her collarbones and forearms. Her fingers were bandaged. She looked frail, skin almost white porcelain with a healthy blush painted on her cheeks and small amounts of sweat dampening her brow. The scar on her lip was an angry blemish in her skin, one that was highlighted by the dim lighting. By the night table, he noticed the various gifts left for her, one from Lydia, one from Farkas and Aela, and the Jarl, and the Grey-Mane family, Adrianna, Arcadia and Belethor, and Hulda, various gifts of potions, parchment with endearing words, and flowers that could only be from Lucia. Lydia must have dropped them off earlier for her.

                An unsealed chug of chocolate milk caught his attention as he stared at it before looking at her again. Belethor mentioned bringing her one a day or two ago, but this couldn’t have been it, could it? He shook his head and drew his lips into a thin line, the air burning in his lungs as he stiffly breathed in and out through his flared nostrils.

                “You’re such a nuisance,” he narrowed his eyes at her. His voice was low and barely held a note of malice to it. He felt almost as though he were talking to a baby that couldn’t understand his contempt for it. He let the back of his hand touch the flushed skin of her cheek, the cool metal colliding with the feverish flesh. “You always get yourself torn up or beaten up. You wear your bruises and scars with pride, _foolish_ pride at that. You sound like a whelp that has never been in a real fight before, and you act as reckless as one. It’s almost as if you have a death wish…”

                And then he recalled the words from that night at the temple. They flooded back to his brain and he had no control over it, the sting of her words, or the ache in his chest when he remembered the sorrow in her eyes; sorrow coupled with suffering and pent up anger, something Kodlak said he held a lot of.

                _" You're the last person who should give a shit about me."_

_"That's because no one wants to see!"_

_"WHY WOULD YOU CARE?!"_

_"No one gets it…"_

She _does_ have a death wish, just like he wished for nothing more than to rid himself of the beast blood, something he found a curse while Aela and Skjor found it a blessing. But she didn’t hate a part of herself, but rather her entire existence in general. She thinks her existence a curse rather than a gift with everyone else desperately trying to disprove her.

                So this is why she’s so valuable to Ulfric, Vignar, and whoever else she runs on errands and suicide missions for; she has nothing left to lose.

                He knelt lower to her bedside, eyes fixed upon her the entire time.  His shadow blocked the candles’ dim light from her face. Aeiron’s eyes twitched a bit at the sudden lack of light but otherwise she was completely still, save for her breathing. Vilkas placed a hand across her body and by her side, leaning over her. The mattress sunk under his added weight, but she didn’t stir in the slightest. His breath fanned out over her skin, faces inches apart. His silver eyes softened and he rested his forehead against her hair. He sucked in her scent with a shaky breath.

                He couldn’t take it anymore.

                “Aeiron,” he murmured. “I’m…. _sorry_.” Vilkas closed his eyes. The air quaked as it left his lungs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there fast enough. If it weren’t for me…I knew I shouldn’t have left you there alone,” he sighed for longingly.

                The beast blood stopped.

                He couldn’t hear that damned wolf in his head anymore. But he could care less at that moment.  Vilkas nuzzled her temple more. He planted a chaste and lingering kiss where his nose was before, feeling dizzy for an entirely different reason. The fuzziness of his mind was pleasant this time as her scent continued to cloud his mind.

                The candles soon burned out afterword and he lingered in silence for a while longer. He gently opened her hand and removed something from one of his pouches, placing it into her hand and closing her lithe fingers around it. She stirred in her sleep slightly; her head turned and she moaned quietly. Vilkas let his hand linger on hers longer than it should have before retreating and leaving in silence. Long after he left, Aeiron clutched the piece of paper she held in her hand.

_._

_._

                The wind blew steadily through the crowns of the trees above. The woods were covered with a thick coating of snow as he traveled along, fully aware of the prowling vampires that were tailing him.

_Wolves asleep amidst the trees_

_Bats all aswayin' in the breeze_

_But one soul lies anxious wide awake_

_Hunting all manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths_

His axes were drawn as he walked cautiously through the woods, hazel eyes glowing a bright green as he scanned the trees and the shadows that crawled around him. Hot red blood dripped into the snow and his footprints; it trickled down from his nose and the gashes in his arms and pooled in the snow from the bodies in back of him now growing cold and vacant of life. The wind was absent as the stars and auroras shone down and dimly lit the forest surrounding him. The vampires, a dead blonde Nord, an older Grey Elf, and finally a young Imperial man, they wore the noble seal of Castle Harkon upon their breast.

_Birds are silent for the night_

_Cows turned in as daylight dies_

_But one soul lies anxious wide awake_

A beast growled as it crept up to him. The Celt turned around, eyeing the vampire’s blood red irises staring at him with hunger, licking its dry lips. He disappeared in a swirl of smoke and appeared before him. The Celt braced for the attack and gritted his teeth, gold fillings briefly gleaming from the blackness and yellow and rot of his mouth.

_For the Celtic, brave and bold_

_Paid in coin of gold_

_He’ll chop and slice you_

_Cut and dice you_

_Eat. You. Up. Whole._

_Eat. You. Whole._

_._

_._

He stared a bit longer at the corpse, breathing heavily before clutching his arm, grimacing at the contact. The Celt pulled up the hood of his cloak. A groan left his throat in a cloud of cold air as he limped away and further into the thicket. The wide eyes of the dead vampire gaped at the open sky above it as dawn began to rise amongst The Pale.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one came rather quickly, and I'm rather happy at that, considering this is the LONGEST chapter I've written yet. I figured I would make things more interesting for the 25th chapter c:
> 
> Lemme know what you guys think!

                Aeiron woke up earlier than normal that night, scanning around and waiting for any nearby sounds with anticipation. She swallowed harshly in the silence as she sat up in bed. When she deemed there were no nearby threats, she threw the covers off of her and jumped out of bed. Her abdomen was still sore, but only burned when she stretched her arms over her head and flexed the tense muscles. “Time to get out of here,” she groaned. Her joints and muscles ached for movement. She was tired of playing sick. She had been studying the guards’ shifts for the past few days, waiting for the opportune moment to bust out of her confinement, which, thankfully was _now_.

                Aeiron rolled her neck and shoulders a few times before beginning to travel to the corner of her room where her stuff was conveniently placed for her. She owed Brynjolf a pint next time she was in Riften. Her pickpocket of a cousin was actually useful when he wasn’t bedding the nearest wench who had tits the size of an apple or larger.

                And then noticed the small square paper in her hand.  

                Her fingers uncurled and scanned the parchment skeptically, not recognizing the handwriting at all. She flicked her thumb like a lighter and then a small flame emerged from her finger, only giving her enough light to read the parchment and to show part of her face in the darkness.

                The handwriting was fluent and neat, far too neat for a quick thought being sketched down by Brynjolf. And on top of that, the words completely took her by surprise.

                _“I love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty.”_

Aeiron blinked her eyes and her face contorted into a frown. “What the feck is _this_ supposed to mean?” She flipped the paper over to see if there was anything on the back. A name, an identity, a signature of a continued message at the least: nothing.

                She shrugged and threw it on the bed before she stripped her tunic and donned herself in her iconic Stormcloak General armor. It felt like putting on a second layer of skin. “Ah, I missed this thing,” she hummed to herself in content, closing her eyes and smiling briefly before shouldering her battleaxe and attaching her bow and arrow quiver.

                They had gone over the plan before she dozed off on the large absorbent amount of health potions she drank down in order to be able to walk like she was able to now. Brynjolf would meet her and Ralof in Windhelm, accompanying Ralof after he exited the city gates on a mission to “track her down”. She would hopefully be able to sneak out without incident, but on the odd chance that she got caught, Ralof would have to be ready at a moment’s notice. This was for Trevor, they all vowed.

                She couldn’t afford to just sit around and wait any longer. Either they acted now or Ulfric might wind up falling victim to the vampire. A Nightmaster, of all the fucking things it had to be. Aeiron couldn’t help but feel a headache coming on about how this one was going to be a fecking pain in the arse like the last one was. But she had help this time, so the odds were in their favor.

                She was about to make her leave when she glanced back at the small paper on the bed. Aeiron stared at it longer than she had intended. Should she leave it? Should she keep it? What could it mean? She rolled her eyes and snatched it before heading for the door.

                Aeiron tip toed out of the room and gingerly closing the door behind her. No guards. She grinned and quietly walked down the steps to the lower floor. Brynjolf did a better job than she thought. There was no one to interrupt her as she made her way to The Great Hall of Dragonsreach back by the War Room and the war table and where Hjornskar was snoring away peacefully. One thing she hated was that Vignar had guards placed around her room around the clock in case anything happened. She was to report to him as soon as she could get up out of bed.

                Chances were if someone spotted her he would do everything in his power to keep her from leaving. She wiggled her fingers as she tiptoed out into the light, flames cracking with dry wood feeding them and footsteps of the guards that were constantly patrolling the area filled her ears. Aeiron felt the adrenaline kick in and warm her blood as she held her breath, heart pounding and her breathing becoming more of a necessity. Dawn was beginning to rise and if she didn’t move now, her window of opportunity may close on her fingers before she can jump out the window.

                Aeiron found herself pulled to the giant map on the war table. Her eyes scanned over it out of old habit to see if any new changes had been made. A small section nearby the Steed Stone had been circled; “Have Aeiron investigate”

                She sighed bitterly. _Of course_.

                Her eyes trailed upwards towards Windhelm and then down to the Rift. _Nothing new there…_ The same thing followed for the neighboring holds of Whiterun and Haafingar. Markarth had a small question mark by it, something that may pose as a small side mission for either her or Ralof to check out.

                And then she spotted a small envelope addressed to the Jarl. She scanned around her briskly before snatching the envelope in her hands and picking up the small iron dagger from the table. The blade tore through the side of the envelope with ease and she tilted the envelope until a small parchment slid out into the palm of her hand. She wasted no time in unfolding it and scanning the letter of its contents.

                _Vignar,_

_Things out by Solitude have not been as lovely as the formal reports have led you to believe. The Imperial’s newly appointed general, a High-Elf by the name of Octavian Nelacar, has been recently seen around the Reach and Haafingar. I’ve already sent a similar letter to Ulfric. This is something that Stormblade would probably be interested in seeing._

_But keep her out of the vampire assaults if you can. I’m handling that as best as I can at the moment. The Dawnguard is making good progress and we’re recruiting dozens by the day. Isran and I have discussed having small Dawnguard patrols in the major cities of the holds in order to thwart another incident like at the Gildergreen temple with Aeiron. You say her condition is bad, I hope it’s not as bad as you say, because if that’s the case she may have contracted Vampirism. It’s quite unlikely but I wouldn’t take any chances if I were you. Look after my daughter, would you? I hear she’s hot on my trail and I don’t want to drag her into the mess I’m in. I already lost her mother, I don’t want to lose her as well._

_All the best,_

_Phil_

                Aeiron’s jaw went slack as she read the unmistakable signature.

                Footsteps suddenly echoed against the staircase nearby that lead to the lower floor of Dragonsreach. The guard stopped in his tracks, almost dropping the torch in his hand. Aeiron gasped and sprinted for the door to the Great Porch and flung the door open with all her strength as fast as she could. The large door opened more slowly than she liked.   

                “S-Stormblade!” The guard stuttered, unsheathing his sword. “It’s Stormblade! _GET HER!_ ”

                Aeiron pushed past the door and sprinted down the pathway towards the dinner table by the low stone wall on the other side of the area. She ran past a guard who took a second to gather her bearings and draw her bow and chase after the general. Arrows whizzed above her head and the guard by the table attempted to swing at her as she ran towards him. She slid across the table and effectively kicked him out of the way with one swift movement, squatting down to the ground and then stopping when she reached the low wall. _“OD-AH-VIING!”_ she shouted and then frantically turned around to see Vignar and Brill running up towards her, followed by a small infantry of Stormcloak soldiers who were slowly approaching her, weapons drawn and on the offense.

                “Aeiron!” the Jarl called. “Get back over here!”

                She breathed heavily, staring him down with a pursed lip and tightening fists. She spotted Hjornskar closer up front and Ralof hanging out by the back, standing and watching, waiting for her to cue him if need be. Aeiron smirked and shook her head at the older man. “No can do, Vignar,” she called back at him. The distant sound of flapping wings brought her immediate comfort and gave her no reason to fear. She stood up on the low wall with her back facing the horizon.

                “What is the _meaning_ of this, Aeiron!” The Jarl shouted at her. He was almost at the end of his fuse with how red in the face he looked. She heard Odaviing roar in the distant and smiled.

                “You can’t cage me up, M’lord. I’m a free spirit. Keep that in mind next time you lock me up in one of your rooms here. I’ll be back when I’m finished in Windhelm and Solitude!” She was shouting gleefully as she waved them all goodbye.

                Everybody’s jaw dropped when she took a step back and fell off the edge of the wall. A few seconds later, she could be seen riding the red dragon away from Dragonsreach and off to the mountains in the distant. During the commotion of it all, Ralof turned on his heal and briskly made for the exit. The sun was almost over the horizon and he had a long trip ahead of him. The sun was red when it rose over the mountains.

* * *

 

                Vilkas sighed in annoyance while pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat down, feeling an oncoming headache. _Damned woman always had_ something _up her sleeve_.

                There would be no rest for her, it seemed. Or him with how much trouble she was creating for him. His brother picked this as the ideal time to sit down next to him on the bench by the training yard doors and have a “brother to brother” chat.

                “So,” Farkas spoke up with a plain smile on his face. “Word around town is that Aeiron broke out of Dragonsreach.” This earned an annoyed groan from the other twin. Farkas smirked and chuckled dryly. “She certainly is a handful, isn’t she?”

                “ _Don’t_ remind me, Brother,” Vilkas looked at his brother with _very_ un-amused eyes. “The woman can’t go _three_ days without pulling some sort of stunt that could kill herself and/or everyone around her.” He wanted to roll his eyes at how she was prone to being so melodramatic when it wasn’t necessary. And to top it all off her sadism when it came to piling up corpses just for the sheer pleasure of it, especially those corpses were Imperial soldiers or Vampires. She might as well build herself a throne while she was on top of said mountain of corpses while she was at it. She already had the evil laughter down…

                Vilkas’ annoyance spiked when he heard his brother’s laughter _again_. Farkas’ hand slapping his back quickly followed as he howled with anger. The other twin growled beneath his breath. “She’s her own kind of woman, that’s for sure! I doubt Hircine himself could keep a reign on her!”

                The other twin felt something snap, and the beast was suddenly alert again, growling at his brother for his slip of the tongue. “What do you want, Farkas?” He cut his brother off rather quickly. As always, Vilkas wasn’t in the mood for small talk or idle chatter.

                Farkas still grinned at him and chuckled a bit. “Someone’s annoyed.”

                “Thank you for stating the obvious, brother, but you still have yet to answer me.” Vilkas gave a scrutinizing look towards his brother before he noticed it. “Wait,” he spoke up. “What’s with that dreamy look in your eye?”

                The bigger of the two smiled widely, almost childlike. “What do you mean, Brother?”

                Vilkas raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth tipped upward into a smirk. “It’s Lydia…you’re in _love,_ aren’t you?”

                A small flush colored Farkas’ cheeks as he smiled bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away with a nervous laugh escaping him. Vilkas couldn’t hold back a small chuckle as he clasped his brother on the shoulder. The other twin looked at him surprised and a little startled. It was rare to see his brother act like this, but he saw more of these moments ever since Aeiron joined them.

                “You will be fine, Farkas. Lydia is a nice woman.”

                Farkas nodded his head sheepishly. “When I was playing with Lucia and keeping Lydia company, she _smiled_ at me a lot,” he looked away and that dreamy look in his eye returned as he smiled blissfully. “I think she’s the one, Vilkas.”

                Vilkas smiled bitterly and forced it to stay on his face as he gave his brother a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. Why couldn’t things be so simple for him?

* * *

 

                Brynjolf smirked and looked over to see Ralof _still_ glaring at him. “Oh, come on, Lad. It was just a bit of fun.”

                _“It was just a bit of fun_ ,” Ralof repeated in a mockingly high pitched voice before glaring at the thief. “That bear almost _killed_ me!”

                The thief snickered, continuing to walk as the Stormcloak captain stared at him in rage. “Your fault for not being able to move out of the way in time, Ralof.”

                The blond rolled his eyes and caught up to the Fox, still giving him the evil eye. “Whatever you say, Thief.”

                The day quickly passed them by as they trekked through half of the country, stopping for little rest if it couldn’t be helped.  And thankfully so far that brown bear was the only thing that gave them a run for their coin during their trip.

                “Isn’t the symbol on Ulfric’s banner a _bear_?” the thief teased.

                “ _Drop it_ , Brynjolf,” Ralof spat back through almost gritted teeth. His left arm was still badly cut up but already healing thanks to the potions he brought with him. His Celtic abilities were slowly kicking in and taking the sting away from the tear in his forearm. They were slowly returning to him after that incident with that Thalmor sword slicing his back open, but too slow for his liking. Aeiron had tried reassuring him that it was due to his abilities not being fully awakened yet, but he couldn’t stand the waiting, especially with all the fighting she was doing.

                So her solution was to place him in the greatest danger she could think of, A Nightmaster vampire. _Swell_.

                Brynjolf’s low snickering brought Ralof out of his train of thoughts as he looked at the master thief. Why couldn’t Aeiron be here to put this stupid fox in his place?  Ralof took his right hand off of the cut on his arm and feebly punched the thief’s arm, smirking a bit. “Knock it off, will you?”

                The thief settled with a content smile after that. Ralof usually had no trouble getting along with Brynjolf; the thief was normally laid back and casual, being able to switch out from lying about to being almost a blur in combat with little effort if any was ever needed. Any thoughts of him not being able to be trusted were quickly proved to be false by the thief’s sharp tongue and his blunt honesty. However, the captain _did_ need to watch his coin purse every now and then, not for fear of losing money, but for…

                Speaking of which, Ralof immediately opened his money pouch and reached his hand in. He immediately yelled and held his hand away from him as much as possible. The snake wriggled restlessly in his hand. _“BRYNJOLF!_ ”

                The red haired man laughed menacingly, throwing his head back as Ralof timidly watched the snake slither away into the woods on the side of the road. “You’re still so easy to fool, Lad,” he grinned with a twinkle in his eye. Ralof felt like beating the living shit out of him, and would have, were it not for that grin fading suddenly and a frown coming on.

                The captain knitted his eyebrows together. “What is it?”

                Brynjolf scanned the area with his eyes, hands cautiously reaching for his glass daggers. Ralof followed his lead and reached over his shoulder for his warhammer. A gilded arrow whizzed through the air, aimed straight for the thief’s skull. He twisted his wrist with the blade following the motion smoothly before slicing through the air and deflecting the arrow at the last second.  “We got company!” the thief yelled as he turned to look at Ralof. The Stormcloak captain nodded.

                “Aye,” he said. His blue eyes glared at the gilded armor that he saw emerge from the woods and walk out onto the cobblestone road, and even more darkly at the High Elves who wore it. Steam from nearby geysers blew into the air from the other side of the road. Giants and mammoths were creating small quakes in the ground below them as they marched on carelessly not too far from where the Celts and the Thalmor were.

                Ralof pressed his back against Brynjolf’s and for once welcomed the rising smirk on the thief’s face. “Looks like we’ll be having some fun before meeting up with Aeiron, eh?”

                Brynjolf’s eyes glowed an emerald green as he gave an animalistic grin. “Aye, Lad.”

                The Thalmor Justicar accompanying the nine or ten Thalmor troops pointed his staff at the Celts and sneered at them. “Kill them. We can’t have them meddling in our affairs!”

                The soldiers charged at them and Ralof’s eyes gave a feint glow of sky blue as he felt something surge through him.

                “Let’s see if you can keep up!” he heard Bryn shout over his shoulder.  Ralof grinned back at him. He kept up just fine.

* * *

 

                Aeiron opened her eyes and stood up, feeling _different_ … _empty_ almost. Her eyes immediately trailed upwards to look at Paarthurnax studying her patiently.

                “How do you feel, Kiir (child)?” the dragon asked.

                Aeiron looked down at her hand and then her feet, feeling tingly everywhere. “Different,” she answered hesitantly. She looked up at the dragon. “Almost like I weigh no more than a feather.” The sinking sun to the west and the crimson sky painted above it showed her that she was there far longer than she had wanted to be. The chill seemed to seep into her skin from just breathing alone. She felt so vulnerable.

                The dragon grunted in reply. “Meditation is good for the sil (soul). It allows one to reflect and to accept without drawing in matters of the hil (heart).”

                She blinked her eyes before turning around in place slowly. Aeiron didn’t know what to think of the new sensation that had washed over her. “But what did you do?” she turned her head sharply and looked up at him.

                “I only saw what you wanted me to see, Kiir,” he sounded amused when he replied. “Your battles are your own, but you trust me with insight, no?”

                She stared at him with doe-like eyes before nodding her head silently. “G-Geh. (Yes).”

                “Then allow me to share.” Paarthurnax’s voice felt like it was passing through her and surrounding her all at the same time. He came down from the word wall he was perched upon and slowly crept up to her. Aeiron felt the mountain top quake below her feet and almost fell over as he approached. When he stopped moving, she stared at him for a moment as she mentally regained her balance.

                Her hand came out to touch his beak hesitantly, skimming over the rough material he was made up of. The dragon closed his eyes and she suddenly saw the images flooding into her mind. She was a small child again, with both her mother and father holding her hands as they walked down the street together. The sun was out and the birds were singing in the Market District of the Imperial City. The streets were crowded and she heard the shouting of vendors.

                And then she was alone. The white lion’s bright blue eyes burned into her vision and crept into her soul.

                Aeiron opened her eyes with a start and stumbled backwards. She fell onto the ground and stared up at Paarthurnax, breathing heavily.

                “Do you now understand, Kiir?” he asked. He already knew the answer. “You cannot keep yourself in the past. You must learn to let go and move on.”

                She shook her head. Words wouldn’t come out of her mouth no matter how hard she tried to string them together; they were all jumbled up in her mind. “I-I can’t,” she finally stuttered. Her father’s dead face with rolled-back was branded behind her eyes. She couldn’t let that happen.

                “In time you must, little Kiir. Or you may succumb to whatever it is that is out to get you.” Paarthurnax’s eyes remained fixed on her as she stood up and brushed the snow off of herself. Aeiron looked up at the dragon before shyly looking down at the ground again.

                “I-I know,” she gulped out. Her hand came up to brush back the stray locks that had gotten loose and were now in front of her face. The Celt took a few breaths before looking back up at the dragon. “Thank you, for everything , Paarthurnax,” she smiled faintly.

                He hummed in answer. “It is my pleasure, Kiir. Please, come back soon and keep an old dragon company, hmm?”

                Aeiron laughed lightly and walked over to the edge of the mountain top. She turned back around at the ledge and beamed at the dragon. “I will!” she shouted. The wind stung her eyes and made them water, but her limbs and body felt whole again. She turned to face the open sky again, feeling the wind almost push her off of the ledge. Her fists clenched as she drew Odaviing’s name in the dark. The letters went to their places and swirled in the air as the snow fell around her.

                “ODAVIING!” she hollered before jumping off of the ledge.

                Aeiron laughed as she felt weightless in a good kind of way this time. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she fell ever nearer to the ground. She heard the strong flap of Odaviing’s wings and collided with red dragon scales in the next instant. She always earned herself new cuts and scrapes from crashing into a dragon’s back, but she barely felt them and instead giggled as she spread her arms out while straddling Odaviing’s back and hollering in the air. It was something she would never tire from.

                “Meyus kiir (Foolish child)!” Odaviing bellowed. “You are reckless. Were I not there you would have fallen and merged with the ground below us.” Aeiron rolled her eyes and blew out the air in her lungs.

                “I’m fine, Odaviing,”she sighed in annoyance. “Wuth dovah fend mindok pruz fein wah laan zey (Old dragons should know better than to question me).”

                The red dragon gave a hearty laugh at her comment as he glided through the air. “Your thu’um may be stronger, you are however but a lion. Am los nid met wah dovah (Lions are no match for dragons).”

                She liked her conversations with Odaviing and Paarthurnax, and even Ulfric at times. It kept her knowledge of the dov language sharp and allowed her to say to them what others would not understand. And despite what Odaviing had said, she has no envy for his ability of flight. Why would she when she can merely summon whenever she wishes?

                Aeiron scoffed at the dragon’s response and huffed. “Paarthurnax seems to disagree with me,” she mumbled. Odaviing roared with laughter again.

                “You are golah (stubborn), Child. It will not do you any good to be this way,” he replied smoothly. They were nearing Eastmarch with the sun setting in the distance.

                “Drop me off by the stables, Odaviing,” she spoke up, completely disregarding his last comment. The dragon huffed in annoyance and flapped his wings some more. He dived down to where the stables were and hovered over the area. Shouting could be heard as people screamed and ran away meanwhile the horses reared up and fought their constraints to get away from the dragon. Aeiron hopped of his back and dropped down to the ground with a grunt before straightening up and looking back up at Odavving. “Thanks for the lift!” she beamed and waved at the dragon. The wind was blowing all around her as he narrowed his eyes at her.

                “Dreh ni ofaal hinmaar krii, Dovahkiin (Do not get yourself killed)!” he stated blandly before flying off, roaring as he went. Aeiron’s eyes followed him with a small smirk on her face as the winds died down and the red dragon faded in the distance. She then drew her attention back to the bridge in front of her, the torches burning brightly as the chilly air whipped over the bridge towards her.

                She began walking slowly to the city gates, giving the passing guards who stopped and stared at her no mind as she marched forward. The gate was open for her by the time she reached it. She nodded her approval to the guards manning their posts and continued on. They turned in their spots and stared at her as she walked inside the city. “What is Stormblade doing here?” “Did the Jarl summon her?”

                When she reached the Palace of Kings, she didn’t wait for the guards to open it for her. Aeiron heaved the door open and entered the castle on her own accord. She immediately eyed Ulfric sitting upon his throne at the opposite end of the room, too busy conversing with Galmar to notice her enter. As she came closer to the table, she spotted the vampire downing some ale. It’s pale grey skin and black hair were a dead giveaway, but most people were not immune to a vampire’s charms. He glanced up at her for a brief second before looking again and staring intently. She smiled darkly and he froze mid-sip from his drink.

                Ulfric was staring at her when she looked back at him. Galmar’s mouth slacked as the Jarl smiled warmly and rose. “Ah, Stormblade!” Ulfric rose from his throne and spread his arms wide. Aeiron held a pleasant smile on her face as she came before her king. “Am Zahreik,” he addressed her again. “It is good to see you.” He watched her as she emerged from the shadows of the opposite end of the room.

                Aeiron placed a hand on her hip as she came to a stop in front of the taller and older man. “Am Zahreik,” Ulfric repeated again.

                “Lot Kodaav,” she returned.

                               


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be shorter than the last, (I apologize), but now the plot thickens! DUN DUN DUUUUUUN

Ulfric was kind that night and let Aeiron go to her room after a small chat. She was among his most esteemed company and a room at the Palace of Kings was always ready for her should she be stopping in Windhelm on any business that occupied her time.

 “It truly is a pleasant surprise for you to drop in unexpected. I was wondering what was keeping you away, Stormblade.”

 “I’ve just been busy, Boss,” she answered uneasily. Of _course_ he would bring this up. She suddenly remembered the uneasy feeling she had the last time she visited the palace. His presence looming over her made a voice inside her scream for her to run back to Whiterun, or anywhere he couldn’t get near her.

 “How have things been since the World-Eater’s end?” the High King asked.

 Aeiron swallowed nervously, feeling even more jittery. “F-Fine!” she answered in a strained voice. Her mind instantly flashed back to the night at the Temple, Vilkas’ face as he stared at her from across the room, as he rushed to catch her…

 “Fine?” Ulfric repeated. He dipped his head lower and arched a thick brow, a bemused look stretched out on his face. Aeiron looked up at him and nodded her head, closing her eyes for a moment. Hearing Galmar’s drunken laughter from his seat by the war earned him a glare from the Celt, an icy one that made him shut up when he saw her reach for the handle of her battleaxe. The old general coughed awkwardly and went back to sipping ale out of his tankard.

 “Everything’s as it’s been since you’ve left. I hope it will be to your liking, Stormblade,” he offered with a warm smile while gesturing towards the door leading upstairs. Aeiron smiled and nodded. She noticed how he stared at her longer than he normally did.

 “It’ll do, Ulfric. Thank you.” she smiled and bowed at the king. Standing up, she turned towards the door. “Night, Galmar!” she waved towards the older general. 

Galmar chuckled with a tankard in his hand, resting in his usual seat as he tipped the metal cup towards her. “Heh, night Stormblade.”

 As she left to go to the living quarters of the giant castle, she felt the vampire's blood red eyes burn into her back. She smirked at him with a menacing glare before shutting the heavy metal door behind her. The knife that was in the monster's hand cutting apart roast duck was suddenly thrusted into the wooden surface of the table. The vampire's hand shook as its grip tightened on the silverware. His cold blood began to boil with gritted teeth and bared fangs. 

A small draft seeped down the stone stairs of the small corridor, one that was all too familiar to her as she slowly ascended the stairs. Her footsteps echoed off of the walls and stone steps below her, almost completely muffling the voices coming from her room. She sensed them before she gazed upon them after pushing the door open, gently smiling to herself as she heard them banter with each other. 

The warmth of the fire burning greeted her abruptly as she stepped inside. Brynjolf was reclined on the bed, arms propping his head up on the soft down pillows with his daggers on the bedside table while Ralof stood alert, warhammer still strapped across his back and arms crossed as he gazed at the fire. Both turned their heads to greet her as she crossed the threshold.

 "Took you long enough, Lass," the thief smirked. "We're've you been?" 

Aeiron sighed and gave a tired smile as she stripped herself of her weapons and tossed them on the nearby sofa in the room facing the fireplace. "Talking," she replied. Her mind dwelled on what Paarthurnax had said and she shook her head of it. "First with Paarthurnax, then with Ulfric downstairs." She turned to face him, raising an eyebrow with a questioning look. "He didn't mention either of you here, does he know that you are?" 

Brynjolf smirked, emerald eyes beaming at her as he flashed a canine at her.

 Ralof rolled his eyes and gave Brynjolf a pointed look. "We climbed in through the window."

 "He planned on pretending to be you in case anyone else came in here," the captain spoke up with a groan. 

"Do you have a problem with my feminine urges, Ralof?" Brynjolf did his best impression of a woman, which sounded like a seventy year old woman who smoked too much. "Am I not ' _womanly_ ' enough for you?!" 

Aerion snorted out of surprise and couldn't stop her laughter as she looked at a disgruntled Ralof and a smug Brynjolf. "You guys are nuts!" She exclaimed, sauntering over towards the sofa and plopping down with a content sigh. Her arm instinctively reached out for one of the fresh jugs of chocolate milk and screwed off the cap without much delay. She suddenly remembered how raw her throat was as she chugged the drink down and savored its flavor.

 "We met our new 'friend', however," Ralof spoke up again.

 "Aye," the thief chimed in. "And what a _lovely_ person he is." 

"And how's that?" Aeiron frowned and crossed her arms, leaning back on the arm of the sofa. 

"He tried to hypnotize me!" Brynjolf exclaimed while _still_ doing his grandmother impression. 

"You can stop now!" Ralof snapped, shaking a fist at the thief. 

She rolled her eyes and sighed. 

Aeiron craned her neck to look at him again. "Anything I should know about?" 

"Other than the fact that he's got Ulfric completely oblivious as to who and what he is? Nothing really." 

"We're still trying to figure that out for ourselves," Ralof added. Aeiron looked at him and nodded quietly. 

"Brynjolf would be the better of the two to snoop around and dig around for anything," she spoke up, frowning at the floor before looking back at him once more. "Ralof and I would raise too much suspicion. If you get caught it would look like a simple burglary."

 "Thanks, Lass," Brynjolf scowled and narrowed his eyes at her. Aeiron shrugged and raised her eyebrows dismissively before sipping her chocolate milk. 

"She has a point, Bryn," Ralof spoke up, looking at her then back at the thief. "Ulfric's around that vampire's finger. The man has a tendency to do some outlandish things in the heat of the moment, something Aeiron can testify to." The captain looked at her and saw the exasperated look at emerged and the widening of her eyes. The sound from the back of her throat made Brynjolf chuckle gently. 

"Alright, Lass," the thief rose from the bed slowly, groaning as he had to leave its comfort. He walked over to the two of them and leaned over the back of the sofa, planting his hands at the top of the back cushions. "But I want a guarantee that my head won't meet the chopping block if this goes sour."

 Aeiron smirked and spun the jug in small circles, eyeing it contemplatively before looking back up at her cousin. "As if I would let that happen to you, Dear Bryn," she teased with a look akin to the one appearing on his face. The thief shook his head and then straightened up. "Well, that's settled then." He turned to look at Ralof. "We should get going. We'll only raise suspicion if someone catches us in here with her."

 Reluctantly, Ralof nodded. He then remembered and turned towards her. "How are you feeling?"

 "Better," she answered simply. Her eyes remained fixed on her bottle as she spun it again. Ralof stared at her for a long moment but didn't press the subject. He turned to Brynjolf.

 "Alright, let's go."

 "Let's meet up at Hjrem tomorrow. It's abandoned right now so I doubt people will see us," Aeiron added quickly when she heard their footsteps.

 "Sounds like a plan," Brynjolf replied.

 "Night, Aeiron," Ralof spoke up last before the door shut gently behind them. Aeiron released the air in her lungs in a frustrated groan, raking her fingers through her hair.

The pick-me-up wasn't doing much to quell the racing thoughts coursing through her mind. And the worst past was that she didn't have anyone to talk to. 

At least back in Whiterun there was _Vilkas_. She snickered at the thought of him yelling at her because of her latest stunt. Between evading the guard and using her thu'um to summon Odahviing she would never hear the end of it. 

Aeiron stood up and stripped of her armor, throwing it onto the sofa before grabbing the large tunic atop the chest at the foot of her bed. She draped it on herself in a fluid and practiced motion before pulling her hair out from underneath. The cold air that greeted her exposed skin gave a pleasant sensation as well as the goosebumps that prickled her skin.

 She plopped down on the bed and relished the feel of the soft mattress. This was without a doubt one of her favorite places to sleep; the bed was large and she could sleep in as late as she wanted to, something that was impossible in Whiterun. With a content sigh, she rolled onto her side and her eyes closed almost automatically. Was she really this tired?

 Vilkas's voice then came through the silence and filled her head: his thick accent, his tales, his witty one-liners, his _laugh_. 

Aeiron felt her cheeks flush and a warm sensation bubbling in her chest as she couldn't stop the wide smile that plastered her face. She liked the feeling, she decided. It was strangely familiar to her and it took her several long moments of pondering why to realize that all she needed as an arm wrapped around her and it would be just like seven years ago.

 With her father. The full weight of the silence surrounding her suddenly crashed down all around.

 And then her heart sank, with her smile being tugged down forcefully.

 She recalled the one time he said he had a weakness for damsels in distress and shook her head with a wry and bitter smile. He could do better.  She was no damsel, only a wreck beyond repair.

 Who could ever love her? Her father didn't. He ran out on her.

 No one did. She forlornly clutched the pillow closer and buried her head into the silk fabric of the pillowcase; muffled sobs left her throat as her body racked. And slowly, she had began to relax. She had cried herself asleep before she realized it. Her last thoughts were of when the world looked bright and promising and she felt a nice breeze greet her in the morning at Lakeview Manor as her father chopped the firewood and greeted her in the morning. The day ahead had looked promising as always, and she had nothing to fear.

 And now?

 Now she had to worry about an enemy creeping up on her out of the shadows with every step she took; around the next corner may be her last stand, her last breath. 

No one watched her back except herself, meanwhile she watched everyone else's. Now that she thought of it, Vilkas did, but he was miles away without a clue as to where she had gone and probably grateful that she was out of his hair.

 Oh, how times have changed.

* * *

 

The sky was on fire that dawn. A fresh dusting coated the streets of Windhelm as guards made their rounds and store owners rose with the sun to set up for another busy day. Ralof stepped outside of Hjrem and warily looked about him, his third time doing so within the hour. The snow crunched under his feet as he crossed the threshold. His gut told him Aeiron was on her way, that she should’ve been there by now. 

Worry began twisting his gut as he exhaled a heavy breath, the cold icy air turning it into a small cloud. Ralof swallowed the lump in his throat before turning back to head in once more. As the heavy door closed behind him, he heard Brynjolf chuckle from where he stood, leaning on a wall to the left of the entryway. “You worry too much, Lad. Aeiron can handle herself,” he yawned when he finished and covered his mouth lazily with his hand. Ralof blinked his eyes forcefully before heaving a sigh.

 There was dust everywhere in the house, and the draft did nothing to add to their comfort. No fire was going in the hearth, the furniture was brittle and worn from the lack of use over the years. Ralof’s throat constantly itched from the thick dust blanketing the air. The wind rattled the floorboards and the walls. He felt the house would blow in on them at any moment, that or it was just his nerves talking. Chills ran up his spine when he recalled the serial killer that used this house as a hideout to perform black magic and carve up the bodies of the women he killed. Out of all the places she suggested, Aeiron _had_ to pick this one.

 “I don’t like this,” the captain spoke up. “She almost died the last time she encountered a Nightmaster.” He turned to look back at the door. “I don’t want her to go through that again. She had to gulp down twenty health potions in order to be able to get out of bed,” he looked at the thief with a knowing look. “And we both know how shitty they taste.”

 Brynjolf nodded his head and tried to push the sour taste he felt in his mouth at recalling the taste. At the news, he held his cousin in a higher esteem than before. _Twenty_ potions… “That’s a lot,” he answered after a moment, eyes widening as he tried to keep himself from vomiting. He exhaled loudly and looked down at the floor before looking back up at Ralof. “I got wind of what happened before everyone else. It’ll be harder to break into people’s houses now that they’re actually checking whether the doors are locked now.”

 Ralof frowned at the fox. “Of course the only thing you would be concerned with would be how much coin you can rake in.” 

Brynjolf chuckled again and raised his hands defensively. “Easy, Lad. I’m just trying to lighten the situation up a little bit. We’re all wound up tight about Trevor’s death. But we’ll get the sonuvabitch, all in due time.”

 The captain blinked at the thief before speaking up again, “How well did you know him?”

 The redhead stared at Ralof, processing the words for a minute before answering him. “Better than you, Lad. I’d known him for a few years. Aeiron introduced me one time when she stopped in Riften for a few days.

 “He was a scrawny man, no way in any shape a fighter. I think you saw that for yourself,” Ralof shifted where he stood and crossed his ankles and recrossed his arms. He studied the look on the Stormcloak’s face before continuing. “The man was a mage, and a _damn_ good one at that. He could patch Aeiron and I up in no time at all, especially when we were in the middle of a fight.” 

Ralof sighed with an uneasy smile. “I only had the pleasure of meeting him once or twice.” 

“He was very cautious man, almost like Esbern in the Ratway,” Brynjolf snickered at that thought. “The Thalmor were on his heals more times than not. Aeiron was really the person closest to him out of the three of us, Lad. She knew him the longest.”

 “So for him to come out of hiding to visit her,” Ralof paused, mind reeling. “What do you make of that?”

 Brynjolf sighed, almost as if he expected the question. The answer choked his throat as it tried to hide from the Stormcloak across the room from him. “The note we found on him might give us more insight as to why he came out in the open. I don’t understand the markings, so they’re not Celtic.”

 Ralof fished the scrap of paper out of his pocket and unfolded the worn parchment. The symbols confused him, something he had never seen before. A knock at the door almost made him jump out of his skin. He shoved the paper back into his pocket before looking up at Brynjolf. The thief unsheathed his glass daggers and nodded. The captain warily approached the door and unshouldered his warhammer, gripping it in one hand.

 “Cé go bhfuil sé (who is it)?” 

“Go bhfuil sé ar leon (it’s a lion),” a familiar answered from the other side. Ralof and Brynjolf shared a look before the captain opened the door. Aeiron stood at the threshold with her arms crossed and with skin paler than her normal hue. She hastily stepped inside, Ralof closing the door behind her as she heaved a sigh of relief.

 “Whew! Finally,” she sighed, turning to look at the captain and then back at the thief before letting her eyes wander around the house. “The last time I was in here that crazed sonuvabitch was murdering women to bring his beloved back, and that was a year ago,” the general smiled in content. “Any longer in that palace and I was sure that vampire would’ve killed me in my sleep!” she turned in place to look back at the two men.

 Ralof blinked his eyes in surprise while Brynjolf let out an expected chuckle. “It figures you would say something like that, Lass.” 

“It wasn’t easy getting out. I had to go through the window because there were guards _all_ over the place!” Aeiron paced back and forth, making wide gestures with her arms. “It was honestly as if they had gotten word of what happened in Whiterun.” The general frowned and looked down at the floorboards.

 Ralof chuckled lightly. “That _was_ a sight to behold. The Thane of Whiterun defying her Jarl.” His smile widened at her. “Vignar’s going to let you have it once you come back.”

 Aeiron narrowed her eyes at him and laughed sarcastically. “I’ll think about that later.” She turned to look at the thief. “Brynjolf, did you find anything interesting?”

 The thief smirked lightly at the corner of his mouth. “Aye, I did,” he replied and then fished something out from one of his many pockets. When his hand reemerged, he was holding a small paper with a broken seal on either end.

 It was a kill order for Aeiron- signed by Lord Harkon himself.

* * *

 

A knock made Kodlak look up from the book in his hand. His eyes widened when he saw the figure before him, a cloak figure with the hood almost completely hiding the man’s face. The Harbinger frowned and cautiously set the book down on the table beside him. “Can I help you, stranger?” Why hadn’t any of the others notice this man’s presence? Had he truly sneaked passed them all?

 The cloaked figure chuckled and raised a hand to slowly pull down the hood. Kodlak’s eyes widened as he stared at the man before grinning widely and walking up to him. Philip took a step towards the Harbinger before they both embraced in a tight hug. “Welcome back, my friend,” the Harbinger spoke up through his quiet laugh. “It is good to see you again,”

 Philip took a step back and nodded his head. “As you, Kodlak.” 

The Harbinger slowly frowned. “Why are you here after all this time? Aeiron has been torturing herself looking for you, and yet you show yourself to me and not your own daughter,” he watched as the grin faded from the Celt’s face, great sorrow taking it’s place. “What is going on?” the Harbinger asked again.

 Philip lowered his eyes to the ground, lines on his face more prominent as he frowned and swallowed hard. “I came…” he began, looking back up at his old friend. The light was too dim to tell whether or not the old man truly had tears in his eyes. “To ask for the Companions’ help.”

  



	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter came at a higher demand than ever so I decided to oblige c: Hope you enjoy!

            When Vilkas entered Jorrvaskr that night, she was the first thing he saw, the only person there. Aeiron stared at him through widened eyes and parted lips. The flames danced against her skin, illuminated her. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. The weight he felt he was dragging and the worn out feeling that made his body ache left him all at once. The heavy door closed behind him and yet he didn't hear it in the slightest. Or see anything else for that matter. The flames and her beckoning eyes were all he could see; they were all he cared to see.     
  
            "Vilkas," she quietly called his name, seeming to relax the longer their eye contact lingered on. She grinned warmly, dimples showing and the scar on the right side of her moth flexing. "Hi!" Her scent instantly hit him: heavy and intoxicating him instantly. He closed his eyes and opened them, trying to clear his head. Whatever was happening, he couldn't find it in him to fight it.  
  
            The wolf breathed out a sigh of relief he hadn't known he was holding onto. "A-Aeiron." His tongue stumbled and tripped over her name, as if it hadn't been said in the longest time. It felt like years, an eternity even since he had seen her last. Emotions he couldn't name rose up out of nowhere at the sight of her as she stood there only in her tunic, more shy than usual as she clamped her thighs together.  
  
            She smiled and clasped her hands behind her, leaning over as a child would when eagerly waiting for something. Her eyes shimmered and were an entrancing grey blue. Vilkas found himself walking over towards her all on his own. He shrugged off his greatsword as he approached her, carelessly dumping it on the floor and forgetting about it.  
  
            "Nice to see you're alright, Wolf," she jested lightly as she crossed her arms. Vilkas stopped when he was almost right in front of her, keeping his eyes glued to her.  Aeiron chewed on her bottom lip. His eyes darted down to her lips, a luscious light pink that he hadn't noticed before. The pit's fire danced over their sheen from her wetting her lips. Vilkas found his throat dry and he swallowed hard, looking back up at her.  
             
            "And what of you? Where have you run off to this time?" He found it impossible to be angry at her. He should be, though. Furious even. His anger had been driving him insane over the past few days, his thirst for vengeance feeding the wolf he normally tried to keep at bay. He found it harder to breathe, her scent intoxicating him.  
  
            She gnawed on her lip some more before sighing plainly, as if the answer were simple. "I had some business to attend to." He watched her throat as she swallowed hard, as if her throat had suddenly gone dry.  
  
            The words seemed to be a half-truth to him. She was always hiding things, secrets at the tip of her tongue. That was one of the things that always drew him to her; she was different. His heart suddenly felt heavy as he recalled the small slip of paper he left in her hands. "And what of the note?" He inquired with a quiet voice. She was lulling him into a daze, and he didn't seem to mind in the slightest.  
  
            Aeiron smiled at him, beaming. A laugh escaped her mouth, a teasing one he always heard in his dreams of her. "As endearing as it was, you won't get me that easily, Wolf." She was already walking towards the stairs to the living quarters with her hips swaying back and forth carelessly. Aeiron turned on her heel and looked at him, a siren now as she arched an eyebrow and bent a finger for him to come hither. He growled as she turned around and stormed over to where she was.  
  
            Vilkas snatched her wrist once he reached her and pushed her against the nearest pillar, pinning her hand high above her head with his other squeezing her hip, pinning her to the beam. She looked at him through widened eyes and heavy breath, arching her body into his in an effort to get closer. He towered over her and leaned in closer. She hesitantly closed her eyes and continued to breathe harshly. Her body twitched under his as she tried to move away. He kissed her the next instant. The hand that held hers retracted to cup the side of her head and forced her to tilt her head. She buried hers in his hair and threaded the thick locks through her fingers.  
  
            Gods, how long had he wanted this? Days, weeks, months? Time seemed to blur together now in his mind. She was the only thing he could think of. She coursed through his veins and kept him up more nights than not. Not even the wenches at the taverns could satisfy him; it was only her he craved for, and it drove him insane. No woman should have this much control over a man: and yet she did so without realizing it.  
  
            He smelled her arousal, her heart beat, everything; she drugged him and made him feel drunk off of mead. She tasted of chocolate and sweat and blood and tears, of which were fresh. It only made him kiss her harder and deeper. She wouldn't hurt anymore or feel worthless, not while he was around.  
  
            She was more to him than she would ever know.  
  
            She whimpered in his arms and was trying to push him away as the seconds pressed on. He growled against her and shoved her harshly against the beam. His teeth clamped down on her lower lip and made her gasp loudly. He delved deeper, tongue and teeth meshing with hers. She wiggled a bit as his hands slid down the sides of her body. He gripped her hips with both hands and finally pulled away, leaving both of them gasping and barely breathing right.  
  
            He brushed the stray hairs out of her face and away from her neck. She continued to breathe heavily, almost as if she barely could. His lips kissed down from her jaw to her neck in slow, open mouthed kisses. Aeiron threw her head back and moaned, whimpering quietly when he lightly bit down on her neck.  
  
            Her hands went to his chest piece, hastily trying to get his armor off. His fingers flew to help her with the straps and buckles. The metal crashed to the floor the next instant, followed by his gauntlets. A light cloth vest clung to his chest, soaked in sweat. He watched as her eyes dropped down to stare at it. Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip once more. She slowly looked back up at him, seeing the heavy look in his silver eyes. Aeiron swallowed harshly, a shaky hand rising to the back of his neck. She pulled him in with more force than she had thought and brought his mouth crashing down on hers.  
  
            Vilkas groaned from the back of his throat as he dipped his hands under the fabric of her tunic, gripping her flesh harshly. Aeiron threw her head back against the beam and he took the opportunity to assault her neck, nipping and biting wherever he could.  
  
            "Fuck," she cursed under her breath when his knee forcefully parted her legs further apart. He growled at the breathlessness in her voice. " _Vilkas..._ "  
  
            He all but ripped the tunic off of her before throwing it carelessly to the side. It could burn for all he cared.  
  
            "Vilkas," she sighed. A small smile spread across her face as she reached out a hand to cup the side of his face. The wolf turned his head into her palm, savoring the moment as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. She leaned in closer, a teasing smile playing across her lips as she stood on her tiptoes and breathed on his ear. He shivered at the warm breath fanning over the shell of his ear. He squeezed her hips more as he felt her teeth on his earlobe and bit back a groan.  
  
            She whispered to him,  
  
            "Wake up."  
  
            His eyes shot open in the next instant and she was gone; nothing but darkness remained around him. He heard a laugh and turned around. His blood instantly ran cold as ice as his heart stopped.  
  
            Hircine stood over Aeiron's bloodied and mauled body. A pack of wolves stood beside him, faces drenched in fresh blood with some of it dripping to the ground. Her lifeless and glazed eyes were the last thing he saw.  
  
            Vilkas woke from his dream in a panic, almost shouting as he sat up quickly in bed with sweat clinging to his body and dampened hair sticking to his face.  
  
            He couldn't take it anymore.  
  
Three nights of the same dream and the beast was still relentlessly howling in his veins.  
  
            He was up and out of bed within the blink of an eye, storming out of his room and walking as fast as his legs would take him to the Underforge. It was still early in the night. If he was quick with his hunt, he could be back in Jorrvaskr before anyone woke up.  
  
            The howling was the loudest it had ever been, almost as if the damned beast had been howling right into his ear beside him. Vilkas nearly tore his clothes off. As soon as he was naked, his bones began to stretch and fur began seeping through his pores. The pain was nothing compared to the tension that had wound him up into a spring. She was always slipping out of bis grasp. Always.  
  
            The wolf howled. Free at last, it bounded down the path to the outskirts of Whiterun in a heartbeat, blood on the tip of his tongue.

* * *

            The three immediately made their way to the Palace. Brynjolf and Ralof walked in ahead of her as she stopped to speak to the guards stationed outside the large metal doors. 

            "Until I say so, keep these doors shut, no matter what," Aeiron spoke quietly, her head bowed to the two Stormcloaks.  
  
            "Is something the matter?" One inquired.  
  
            "I can't say anything more on the subject. I'm going to have to ask that you two trust me. Please," the general gave them a slightly pleading look. She swallowed and waited for their response.  
  
            They both looked at each other before nodding and looking back at Stormblade. "Alright," the other guard spoke up, accent thick. "Just don't do anything stupid, Stormblade." Aeiron crossed her fingers as they closed the door behind her. She readjusted the small pack she had slung over her shoulder and walked forward to where Brynjolf and Ralof were standing.  
  
            "So how are we doing this, Lass?" The thief arched an eyebrow at her and shifted his eyes to look at the High King and the vampire conversing casually. Aeiron swallowed and dropped the pack at her feet.  
  
            "You two cover me if I fall on my ass. I'll handle the frontal assault," she mumbled, peering in the same direction. "Ralof..." She hesitated, choking on the words before they finally fell freely from her mouth. "Don't jump in unless you absolutely have to."  
  
            Aeiron unsheathed her battleaxe and shrugged off her bow and arrows, stepping over them without breaking eye contact from the vampire. She took another step before her arm was grabbed. Brynjolf gave her a mournful look. "Lass, are you sure about this?"  
  
            Her eyes softened and she bowed her head, nodding it slowly. "I won't forgive myself if I don't do this."

 He knew all too well the only reason why he and Ralof were there; finish the job if she dies. The thief's fingers slowly fell from her arm as she pulled away from him. He noticed the recent owl carving on the hilt of her axe. 

  
            The vampire did a double take as she approached and his eyes widened at the anger in her eyes. They were glowing a bright blue and almost blinded him as everything in the room seemed to look darker. She staked forth as a lion would to its prey: slow steps that would drive a lesser animal against a wall in fear of the inevitable. After all, what was a mere bat to a great lion?  
  
            Ulfric followed the beast's line of sight and rose an eyebrow at the his general. His eyes widened when he saw Ralof and Brynjolf. "Ralof, Stormblade, what-"  
  
            Aeiron stopped in front of them silently, slowly turing her head away from the great bear and onto the dark beast. She stared at the vampire intently as she fished out an item from under her armor that had been around her neck: an owl totem.  
  
            "Two days ago, a vampire attacked Whiterun and killed a man; a very wise and cautious man. He was forced to run from something because he was driven out of hiding. But," she paused and narrowed her eyes. "I only killed one of them. There were two of them there."  
  
            The vampire scoffed and arched an eyebrow. "And just what are you accusing me of?"  
  
            "Murder," she answered bluntly.  
  
            Ulfric laughed nervously. "Stormblade, Alvyor is not a murderer. He is a trusted friend and-"  
  
            "He wasn't here two days ago, Stormcloak," Brynjolf cut in, crossing his arms and giving a pointed glare at the High King. He pulled out the note from his pocket and stepped forward, handing it to Ulfric.  
  
            The Great Bear frowned in confusion and hesitantly took the parchment from the thief's hand. "What is this, Thief?"  
  
            "Read it," Ralof deadpanned. Ulfric looked towards the Captain with a look of surprise mixed with curiosity before beginning to unfold the paper.  
  
            "What are you doing?!" Alvyor hissed, fangs showing through gritted teeth. "They're trying to trick you! Don't read that!"  
  
            The king ignored him and his eyes scanned across the paper. His face contorted in rage as he looked at the trio and then down at Alvyor. "You monster!" He yelled. "You've been using me as your plaything with your mind tricks and your deception!" The old palace shook with the might of Ulfric's voice. Old dust and debris sprinkled down from the ceiling and fell around them. He stood up from his throne and was now dangerously close to the vampire, titanium war axe at hand. "I won't allow this any longer!"  
  
            The vampire grinned viciously as the illusion spell around him lifted. His clothes and cowl were replaced with vampiric armor and his hair was longer now. His eyes glowed a bright red as a dark aura swirled around him and expanded throughout the room. The great hall darkened with the candles and torches violently blown out and the aged tapestry blowing in the gale wind. Aeiron brought up an arm to shield herself from the violent gusts. Her feet were slowly sliding backwards against the carpet while Brynjolf and Ralof were blown back to the door, along with the condiments atop the long table.  
  
            When the wind finally died down, Alvyor's hideous laughter echoed through the air. Aeiron cautiously lowered her arm and squinted her eyes, scanning the room. She turned in her spot, looking from the startled High King to the two Celts who were now slowly rising from the floor. The vampire was gone.  
  
            Galmar ran in then, frowning as he scanned the scene before addressing Ulfric. "My king, are you alright?" The old general then turned towards Aeiron, barking at her. "Stormblade, what in Talos' name just happened?!"  
  
            Brynjolf was quicker to get back on his feet. He lightly dusted off his armor as Ralof rose slowly with a groan. "Ralof, get Ulfric out of here," they heard her call from across the long room.  
  
            "Stormblade, explain-" Ulfric tried to protest.  
  
            "Later!" The glare she gave him clearly showed that this was not the time, nor the place for this discussion. He didn't have much time to refute her either way. Ralof was leading him out of the throne room in the next instant with the thief following behind them. The door was closed behind them. Brynjolf didn't follow them across the threshold.  
  
            Aeiron twirled her battleaxe anxiously as she turned in place once more. She looked to Brynjolf and nodded at him lightly before resuming her scan of the room. She paused in horror, a gasp leaving her mouth. The two guards by the doors were now a bloody mess. Their corpses were almost turned inside out, organs and blood oozing out of their flesh.  
  
            Brynjolf took out his glass daggers and stood at the ready, watching as she ran to the fallen guards. Aeiron came to a stop and sank to her knees, her weapon almost fell from her hands.  
  
            "AEIRON!" The thief yelled.  
  
            The vampire went to swing at her with his talons, moving at an almost blinding speed.  
  
            She effortlessly blocked the vampire's tallons with her axe, glaring at the beast over her shoulder. Alvyor looked at her quizzically before he cackled evily.  
  
            "Lord Harkon was right: you are such a predictable little girl! All we need do is hurt people you cherish and you fall apart!"  
  
            Aeiron wildly swung her axe at the nightmaster's head several times within a few seconds, the beast narrowly dodging each blow with his clothing being torn from swings.  
             
            Electricity bubbled in Alvyor's palm before he flung it at her. Aeiron cried out and slumped over, almost dropping her axe. A second and longer shock spread through her, making her body contort before almost folding in half where she stood. Blood seeped out from her nostril and dripped onto the floor as she breathed raggedly.    
  
            "Lass-"  
  
            "Alright, fine! Brynjolf!" She yelled loudly. The building trembled slightly from the force of her voice. The thief smirked and twirled his daggers in his hands before charging at the vampire. Alvyor's eyes widened as he barely managed to dodge at the last second. The thief chased the monster across the hall, managing to hold his own with the vampire.    
  
            _"Hey, Trevor," Aeiron mumbled quietly, staring into the campfire. The Breton looked up at her silently, just as tired as she was. She kept staring at the flames, hypnotized almost. "Why do you keep hiding?" The rat way in Riften provided little comfort compared to Lakeview Manor. But why would she want to go home to an empty house._  
  
            _Trevor sighed and stared down at his hands and then eyed the flames. "...I don't know."_  
  
_"Really?" She sounded more depressed than she had intended. Trevor looked up at her again to see her eyes glistening._  
  
_"Aye," he replied hesitantly. "I'm always afraid of death, of dying alone..."_  
  
_"What if I said I would protect you?" She was crying at this point, lips trembling and tears streaming. "Cause all we have is each other, right?"_  
  
_"I...don't know, Aeiron."_  
  
            She forced herself to stand up and brought her axe up. Her legs took off as she entered the fray again.

            Brynjolf bowed in time for her to swing at the vampires upper half, the axe blade cutting through the leather armor and grazing the beast's chest.  
  
            Alvyor hissed and jumped back, eyes glowing blood red. Brynjolf flexed his wrists and spun his daggers a few times, smirking at her. “Nice to see you’re back, Lass.”

            Aeiron scoffed and straightened her posture from the stance she had been in to swing at the vampire. “Don’t celebrate too soon, Bryn.”

            The thief laughed through his nose. “Wasn’t planning on it, Aeiron…” When he turned to look at her again, she was gone. In the next instant, he heard her cry out as she swung her axe at the vampire. The metal sliced through the beast’s armor and cleanly cut through his torso. Alvyor hissed and teleported to flank her. Aeiron blocked him with ease, barely giving him time to get out of the way as she swung at him again.

            Brynjolf shook his head and lunged at the vampire. Alvyor stepped out of the way in a smooth motion and leaned back. Aeiron swung wildly at the vampire again. He ducked just in the nick of time, some of his black locks being cleanly trimmed off of him. Brynjolf followed him and continuously swung his glass daggers at him. Alvyor in return blocked each one of the thief’s strikes. Was he slowing down or was the vampire getting faster?

            The vampire summoned a ball of electricity in his hand and ducked Brynjolf’s last swing with his dagger. He stepped around him and struck the thief in the side. Brynjolf was blown through the air and crashed against one of the medal doors.

            Aeiron immediately turned to look at the thief, eyes widening in horror. “BRYNJOLF!”

            Another shock brought her back to reality. She turned just in time for the vampire's palm colliding with her stomach, the electricity causing a small explosion. She yelped and used her axe to brace herself after skidding back on her feet ten or so feet. The vampire stalked forward slowly. He grinned as he drew closer.

             He kicked her battleaxe out from underneath her. She slumped down to the ground. He gripped her thick and matted hair and hauled her off of the floor. Aeiron glared at him when she was at eye level with him.

             "Any last words, Leon-Croí?" Alvyor asked teasingly.  He readied his talons for the final blow, licking them with anticipation. 

  
            "Yeah, a few," Aeiron smirked as she looked at the vampire, eyes glowing brighter than before. Alvyor'a face contorted in confusion. Aeiron’s hand reached for the dagger that was strapped to her thigh. Her hand gripped his shoulder and in one swift motion, she impaled his heart. Trevor’s smile appeared before her for a split second.  
  
            “Tá tú bualadh craicinn _marbh._ (You’re fucking _dead_.)” Aeiron snarled and drove the dagger in further. Her eyes remained locked on the shocked expression of the dying vampire. She stood up on her feet as he slumped to the floor lifeless. His blood now was staining the throne room’s rug.

            She breathed heavily for a few moments, the glow in her eyes died down and she looked up at Brynjolf, who was smirking tiredly. “Nice going, Lass,” he chuckled tiredly.

            Aeiron smiled breathlessly and walked back to the long table, grabbing two bottles of mead before hobbling towards the thief. She slumped down and carelessly sat down next to him, tiredly turning her head to look at him as she uncorked the bottle with her teeth and offered it to him.

            Brynjolf chuckled and took the bottle. “I thought you didn’t like mead, Lass.”

            “I _don’t_ ,” she answered. He grinned at her as she pulled the cork out of her bottle with her teeth, too lazy to move. They barely moved their arms to tap the bottles together. 

            “Cheers, Bryn,” Aeiron said tiredly before chugging the alcohol down.

            “Cheers, Lass,” Brynjolf took a sip and sighed loudly, now content. He turned to look at her, seeing her head leaning against the door as she stared at the ceiling. Aeiron turned to look at him with a curious look. “How long until they come down here and find us?”

            Brynjolf shrugged. “In a few minutes maybe. Once they realize that there’s no more racket coming from here they’ll be sure to investigate,” his accent was thick as he slightly slurred his words, whether it be from the alcohol or from how tired he was.

            Aeiron suddenly giggled then. “Imagine Ralof’s face when he gets in here and sees us drinking in this bloodbath!”

            Brynjolf chuckled. “Forget Ralof, what about _Ulfric_?” he offered with a tired grin. She laughed loudly at that mental image and rested her head against his arm.

            “Now _that_ would be hilarious.” Her chuckling died down before she looked up at him again. “I really don’t want to go back to Whiterun and face Vignar. He’ll have my head this time for sure!” she snorted and laughed dryly.

            The thief raised an eyebrow at her and stared at her for a moment. “Then don’t,” he said simply.

            Aeiron paused and gave him a questioning look. “ _...What?_ ” her face scrunched up as she blinked her eyes at him.

            “Don’t go back to Whiterun,” Brynjolf repeated. “Come with me to Riften.”

            Aeiron’s eyes widened at him before she stared down at her lap. “But what about Lucia and Lydia and V-”

            He laughed at her rambling. “I’m not saying forever, Lass. Just for a few days.”

            Aeiron laughed at her own stupidity and shook her head. “I’ll think about it, Bryn,” she sighed and raised her bottle. He raised his and tapped it lightly against hers.

            “Fine, cheers,” he said.

            “Cheers,” she replied. There was a silent pause between them as they downed their drinks. The silence was comforting in a way. Aeiron felt her eyes slowly grow heavier.

            “At Least Trevor can rest easy now,” the thief mumbled with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. Aeiron wordlessly looked up at him before looking back down at her drink that she was spinning in her rotating wrist.

            “... _Yeah_.”

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short update and the lack thereof. I've been busy with college and whatnot now. This chapter is more of a transitional one if anything else. I had been planning this part for a while now, and any Aeiron/Vilkas shippers are about to get their fill soon enough! :) Enjoy!

                Vignar rubbed his temples as his steward read the fifth letter from a different Jarl, not even a portion of the way through all of the mail he’s received within the last two days. All he wanted to do was just go to sleep. It was ten o’clock already!

                “Jarl Vignar,” Brill began. “The Dragonborn’s services are needed for a predicament occurring in The Reach with her barbaric cousins the Forsworn. We request that you send her immediately.

                “Sincerely, Jarl Thongvor Silver-Blood.”

                The Jarl exhaled deeply and glared at Brill. “That’s the third time this month he’s sent that note.”

                “Jarl Vignar, more dragons have been spotted throughout the hold. Please send the Dragonborn as soon as she is readily available.

                “Jarl Vignar, Stormblade’s assistance is requested in dealing with a sensitive issue here in Hjaalmarch. We request that she report as soon as she’s able.”

                                Vignar suddenly sat upright in his throne and began barking at the soldiers in the room. “Talos be damned, where _is_ she?!”

                One Stormcloak soldier stepped forward with a small parchment and handed it to the Grey-Mane. “We last heard that Brynjolf of Riften and Ralof of Riverwood are now in Windhelm. They arrived there two days ago.”

                Vignar slowly looked up from the note and raised a thick eyebrow at the grunt. “And what of Stormblade?” he asked bitterly.

                “Nowhere to be found, Si—”

                “How is it that NO one can find ONE, BRATTY GIRL?!”

                Brill pursed his lips and watched the soldier slowly back away and quickly turn to sprint out of Dragonsreach. Vignar brought a hand to his head in hopes of quelling the oncoming headache he was surely soon to have. He turned to the steward and gave the man a pointed look. “And you’re _sure_ the Companions have no information to give?”

                “I asked them all this morning,” Brill paused. “Well, _most_ of them.”

                “What do you mean by _most_ , Brill?” his patience was growing thin again.

                “Apparently Vilkas was not there this morning. They said he left last night and hasn’t been back since. His armor and greatsword have also left with him. Oddly enough, he didn’t tell anyone where he was going.”

                “ _Wonderful,_ ” the Jarl groaned. “That boy’s had eyes for her ever since she showed up. I honestly thought he was going to change right in front of us when he brought her in that night,” his voice took on a more doting tone as Vignar remembered the look in Vilkas’ eyes when he brought her in; he never looked more menacing than in that exact moment, or so he remembered. “put up a bounty!” he finally barked.

                “A bounty for what?” the steward asked uneasily.

                “For a sweetroll,” Vignar sweetly answered before screaming, “THE DRAGONBORN! WHO ELSE!”

                Brill shakily inhaled before swallowing. “And what should the bounty say?”

                “One thousand gold to the person who brings the Dragonborn Stormblade _ALIVE_ back to Whiterun hold.” Vignar sighed and reclined more in his seat. He turned his head when he saw Brill still standing there. “What are you _waiting_ for, Brill?”

* * *

 

                _The following day:_

                It had been a couple of hours since Ralof and Brynjolf had fallen asleep, and yet her body fought off sleep for some unknown and frustrating reason. Aeiron had spent the last two or three hours staring at the ceiling above her bed, listening to the loud snoring coming from the couches by the fireplace. She rubbed her eyes and yawned quietly, stiffly sitting up to view her surroundings. The fire in the room had gone out long ago and a light draft was felt by the exposed skin of her neck and arms. Brynjolf was hanging off of the one couch like a drunkard, scratching at his stomach and yawning every once in a while; Ralof on the other hand had made himself comfortable on the other, curling up on his side and back facing her.  Aeiron picked up Trevor’s ring from the nightstand, still bloodied and cold with the touch of death. The tired feeling left her body as she inhaled deeply and looked towards the window.

                _Solitude_.

                Aeiron moved quietly with deft actions as she flung the covers off of her and stood up from her bed. Her muscles were still sore and rigid and it took most of her self-control for her to not hiss or groan out in pain. She swiftly shouldered her axe and bow and quiver before stepping over to the window. Her palms were pressed flatly against the window. “Now, how does this thing open?” she muttered to herself. Her eyes scanned the glass panel slowly before she spotted a small latch. The Celt smirked. “Bingo!”

                She flicked her wrist and the small blade slid out smoothly. She probed the latch with it and wiggled it in several directions before she heard a small click. Aeiron gripped the window’s edge with both hands and slowly pried the panel open. A cold burst of wind blew in through the window. Aeiron sucked in a deep breath and felt herself wake up more. She loved the cold.

                She turned her head to look at Brynjolf and Ralof one last time, still seeing that they were asleep before she smoothly hopped up onto the window sill and leapt out. She rolled out when her body collided with the powdery snow below her and then took off with a sprint.

                Aeiron stopped running when she reached the other side of the bridge, panting lightly. Her body turned and she whipped her head around to stare at the palace, seeing the windows starting to light up. She didn’t have much time. If Ulfric heard about what happened in Whiterun, he would never let her go.

                The hours dragged on as she pushed through most of Winterhold and was a short distance away from Dawnstar. She was too close to Whiterun to rest. Aeiron gritted her teeth and hung her head with she felt that all too familiar stinging in her arm. She gripped it tightly, looking up panting to see the wind blowing snow in her face. The cold went through her and seemed to clutch at her heart.

                She gasped and swallowed, breathing heavily as her body grew heavy. The cuts and tears on her body burned greatly as they were all torn open, from the Arena in Cyrodiil to Helgen to the Civil war to Sovengarde to now. Her feet were lead blocks as she tried to move them and trudge further through the amassing snow.

                The Great Lift of Aftland was a blur in the distance, but she could make it out, barely, but still nonetheless. Aeiron swallowed and faltered in her steps towards the Dwemer gate, wanting nothing more than to just retreat to Blackreach for a few days by herself. Even the Greybeards wouldn’t know where she was; no one would know where she went.

                She barely had time to move out of the way.  Rolling to her side, she saw a blur of electricity pass her by, warmth from its body brushing by for a split second and rippling down her skin. Aeiron drew her battleaxe in haste and held it in her hand with a firm grip. Her eyes darted around and scanned for figures through the dense snowfall.

                _“Laas!”_

                One, two, three…five of them. All human.

                She heard one of them laugh a few yards away. “Found her, boys! Ol’ Vignar’s paying a hefty sum for _this_ chick, ain’t she?”

                Another voice spoke up. “Why don’t we have some fun with her first? Rumor has it she’s never slept with anyone!”

                Aeiron’s blood boiled and she didn’t feel weak anymore. Her eyes glowed dangerously as she glared at the figures closing in on her.

                “Maybe,” a third one replied. “I’m looking forward to it.” He took aim with their bow and aimed an arrow at her.  Aeiron gritted her teeth and shot him a look daring him to lose the arrow on her.

                She was planning on catching it with her hand, snapping it in half and send them running for the hills. These mercenaries weren’t worth her time, nor was she in the mood to deal with such delinquents. She licked her lips as he drew the arrow back further before the arrow shot forward.

                A blur appeared in front of her and slashed through the arrow with his greatsword. Aeiron’s eyes widened at the familiar figure.

                _Vilkas._

                “Oi! Who ‘re you?” One bandit asked him. The Companion stood straight once more and shot him a look, resting his sword on his shoulder with one hand gripping the hilt still.

                “I’m Vilkas of the Companions, and I suggest you turn around and be on your way,” he almost growled at the other man as he stood in front of Aeiron protectively.

                “That bounty’s ours! If you want it, you’ll have to go through us!”

                Aeiron groaned in annoyance and walked in front of Vilkas. She sucked in a large breath of air.

                Two of the thugs looked at each other. “The fuck is she doin’?”

                “ _FUS RO DAH.”_

                A crack of thunder filled the air as the five thugs were sent flying back hundreds of feet into the air. Vilkas blinked his eyes and looked at her completely speechless. The amazement died when he saw the tired and weary look in her eye.

                “Hi, Grumpy,” she croaked. The adrenaline was dying down, and the pain was coming back with a vengeance now. He caught her as she fell forward, kneeling down to make sure she didn’t slip from his arms.

                “You look like you’ve been to Oblivion and back, Stormblade,” he mused quietly. Aeiron let out a soft chuckle.

                “I guess,” she replied.

                “You have to stay awake, Aeiron. Just a little bit longer,” he felt like he was pleading with her almost. “Until I get us somewhere safe.”

                He watched as she pointed towards the lift. “I was going to go on that thing.”

                “Where does it lead to?” he asked, looking at the lift and then back at her.

                “… _Blackreach_ ,” she sighed and let her eyes flutter close.

                “ _Aeiron!_ ” Vilkas snapped at her and jostled her lightly.

                “Hmm?” She looked up at him with slits for eyes. Vilkas stood up with her arm slung over his shoulder and his arm around her waist as he led her towards the lift. He kicked the gate open and pulled the lever in the middle of the platform when they both reached it. The gears groaned and the lift started its decent downward into the Dwarven city.

                Aeiron closed her eyes.

                When she opened them again, she heard a fire going vaguely as well as deep breathing beside her. She closed her eyes again and focused on the warmth that was currently surrounding her and making her feel at ease. She couldn’t remember the last time she was _this_ relaxed.

                And then she realized that her pillow was an _arm_. And there was another arm _around her waist_. And there was a _chest_ moving up and down beside her.

                _Well, shit._

                Aeiron opened her eyes and lifted her head to see Vilkas sleeping beside her, both of them stripped of their armor and her wearing her sleep tunic, as well as fresh bandages covering the recent wounds her body, _all_ of them. Vilkas was in a pair of trousers holding her close to him. He smelled of blood and sweat and mead, a combination she found herself growing fond of.

                Her eyes were still marveling at the gauze covering her scrapes and bruises. But he hated her, why would he…?

                “Sleep well?” he asked lazily.

                Aeiron almost very well jumped out of her skin at that moment. She curled up slightly and vigorously nodded her head, pursing her lips and fighting the blush that was beginning to paint her cheeks.

                When she looked up at him, his eyes were already on her, gently gazing at her. Aeiron swallowed and spoke up again, “Where are we?”

                “Sinderion’s Laboratory,” he sighed exasperatedly. “After you giving me half-assed directions as to where to go, I found it after a half-an hour of looking. You’re worse than a drunk, you know that?”

                He smirked at the small laugh she let out expectantly. “I don’t remember any of that,” she smiled sheepishly and pursed her lips again. Vilkas brushed some of the hair away from her face.

                “I think it’s best if you don’t,” he chuckled.

                Aeiron nodded and looked down, laying her head back down on his bicep. She’d been in here before and she knew that there was only one bed in the small lab, but still, why was he so _close_?! “When are we heading out?” she asked quietly.

                “Not until I know you can handle yourself without me. You’re covered head to toe in injuries and I’m not letting you go anywhere until they’re all gone,” Vilkas’ voice left no room for argument and she was too tired to retaliate.

                She nodded her head and yawned deeply.

                “I’ll wake you up in a few hours,” he added.

                Aeiron simply hummed in agreement as she dozed off again. It felt like he pulled her tighter against him, but maybe she dreamed that part… or the whole thing in general.

               

               

                 

               


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me some trouble in terms of figuring out how to get it out, but I FINALLY DID IT! :D  
> Feedback would help me survive my workload from College @_@

            Vilkas woke up before her, about an hour or two after she stirred him from his sleep. She still smelled of the blood she was covered in when he found her. No wonder why those bandits were able to track her so easily. Anyone could've just followed the thick trail of blood she left behind.   
  
            He'd seen her shirtless before with most of her chest and back covered in old lacerations and wounds, but he saw everything covering her from arrow holes to bite marks on her arm to the scar on the right side of her face bleeding; it was most likely made from a small dagger, a deliberate cut.   
  
            He looked down at her again, propping himself up on his arm and stared at the scar. Hesitantly, he raised a hand to graze it with his fingers. Aeiron's eyes shot wide open and she flipped him onto his back in one swift motion. She reached for the dagger that was normally strapped to her thigh only to find it missing.   
  
            Vilkas glared at her and flipped her onto her back again, pinning her hands above her head.   
  
            "What are you doing?" She almost shrieked. Her cheeks were beginning to glow a bright red from anger.   
  
            "You tell me," Vilkas replied carefully. "You pounced on me first!"  
  
            "I-it was a reflex!" Aeiron blurted out in protest. She fidgeted below him and felt the constraints of the fresh bandages along her abdomen and chest. The thought of him touching her there made her face turn darker.    
  
            "Did you honestly think I would hurt you, Little Lioness?" He was mocking her now, and he was loving how riled up she was getting.   
  
            "Get off!" Aeiron immediately blurted out, now struggling under him some more.   
  
            When he didn't listen to her, she head-butted him and flipped them off of the stone bed. Aeiron straddled his waist and grabbed her dagger off of the small dresser next to the bed. The blade was at Vilkas' throat before he could blink.   
  
            "Why did you look for me?" She breathed heavily, holding the blade in an uneasy grip. Vilkas stared up at her, hands tempted to grip her waist and thighs like he normally would in this position. "Who told you to come and get me?"  
  
            "No one did... I came because-"  
  
            "Vignar has a _bounty_ on me?! Do he and Ulfric and all the other Jarls and Officers in this country think that I am a _pet_ to answer at their every bark and call?" Aeiron's voice shook and the hand holding the dagger to Vilkas' throat trembled. He pursed his lips and softened the look he gave her. "I'm sick and tired of being the Dragonborn! Being Stormblade! Being...whatever else they call me!" She was yelling through gritted teeth with her body trembling after each word she screeched. "I am a _Leon-Croí!_ I bow to _NO ONE_!" The metal bit into his neck and a small red bead of blood trickled down his neck.   
  
            “So you have a breaking point after all..." He sounded more depressed than he had intended.   
  
            "DAMN STRAIGHT I DO! I JUST...! I just..."  
  
            One hand slowly came up to grip hers and wrap around her clenched fist. Tears spilled onto his hand as Aeiron bit her lip and hung her head. Vilkas raised his other hand to cup her face lightly. "I just want my Dad back. It would all be so much easier if he were here..." Her voice was a broken mumble.   
  
            Vilkas slowly sat up and pushed the dagger out of her hand. It fell with a loud _CLANG!_ as he turned his eyes to look at her. Aeiron whimpered and left her hand open in the shape it was in with Vilkas' grip on her wrist. She felt him pulling her close to his bare chest again, a hand running up and down her back soothingly while the other moved to bury itself in her mane.   
  
            She began to sob, her body racking and trembling even more so now. Vilkas listened to her silently as she wept. And then he started humming a small tune, one that was popular in Cyrodiil.   
  
            Maybe she was ignoring him or maybe she couldn't hear him, but either way, it proved to be not effective. Vilkas sighed and racked his brain again on another way to calm her down. And then he remembered when he was younger.   
  
            _"A gentle breeze," he began softly. "from Hushabye mountain..."_  
  
            He sung a lullaby that Tilma sung to him and Farkas when they were younger, one that he was sure she would know.   
  
            She reminded him of a small child with her voice and how she curled into his chest as she muttered the words to the song along with him.   
  
            _"...softly blows o'er Lullaby Bay. It fills the sails, of boats that are waiting, waiting to sail, your troubles to sea..._ _  
  
            "So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain. Wave goodbye to the cares of the day....sail far away from Lullaby Bay."  
_  
            He continued rubbing her back slowly in soothing strokes. Her crying had died down to her breathing quietly, her head buried in his chest.   
              
            "You haven't been as agitated. You turned, didn't you?"  
  
            "...Aye, I did. I smelled your blood and I had to follow it, even after I changed back." He buried his nose into her hair. It still smelled of blood and sweat, and it held a bit of chocolate and blossom to it, something only she possessed.   
  
            Aeiron still kept her head buried in his chest. "Vilkas?"  
  
            "Hmm?" He looked down at her with an arched eyebrow.   
  
            "Why did you look for me?" The question was innocent enough, and it was asked in a way that a child would, and yet he found himself disarmed by it entirely.   
              
            "The Companions asked me to look for you and to bring you back to Jorrvaskr," he lied. "They were getting worried about you."  
  
            "And what about you?" She asked and finally looked up at him.   
  
            Vilkas hesitated for a moment before speaking up again.   
  
            "We should eat soon," he grunted as he attempted to get up. Aeiron held him in place, her grip on him tighter than he had thought. He paused and leaned back to look at her. Her head was leaning against his chest as she looked at the small fire still burning brightly; her eyes were glazed over.   
  
            "Aeiron," he jostled her a little bit. She hummed lightly and looked up at him. "We should eat soon," he repeated. She slowly nodded her head before moving to get up. Looking at the bed, she saw it was bigger than she remembered it being. Then again, she never spent too much time in this room.   
  
            Vilkas walked over to the cooking pot and threw some more logs onto the fire. Aeiron sat down in the small chair by the door, watching him quietly as he worked in preparing whatever it was they were going to eat. "We're going to need to get food, you know," she spoke.   
  
            "Aye, I know that," he didn't look back at her as he continued to stir the pot. He had a feeling he knew where she was going with this.   
  
            "I know Blackreach better than you do-"  
  
            "You're not going anywhere," he cut her off sharply.   
  
            Aeiron scoffed. "And why is that?"  
  
            "You _reek_ of blood. The falmer would sniff you out in the blink of an eye." Vilkas stood up and turned to face her now.  
  
            She looked down at the bandages, most of which were due for a changing; dark red and brown spots colored the gauze and flexing her muscles seemed to irritate them to a degree.   
  
            "Which should I be more afraid of," Aeiron spoke up, smirking bitterly and eyeing him again. "the Falmer or you?"   
  
            Vilkas sneered at her. He couldn't give her an answer. 

* * *

 

            Vilkas sighed in annoyance every time she gritted her teeth while dumping minor health potions on all of her cuts and bruises. He didn't know whether to be astonished at the number (well over a hundred) that she had or to once again point out that being a pack rat was not necessarily a good thing, such as saving a whole wheel of goat cheese (was that mold on it?) and other various knick-knacks he was sure she didn't need.   

  
            And to top it all off, she was making it difficult for him to read when she kept making _those_ sounds. He eyed the bed, and then looked at her again. If he had it his way…his grip on the book tightened as he clenched his jaw.

            Vilkas finally gave in. He rolled his eyes and slammed his book shut with his hand, eyeing her with annoyance.    
  
            "Must you be so _loud_?" Vilkas watched her turn around and shoot him a dirty look. “I’m trying to read.”

            “Well, maybe if ya _helped_ me, ya damned Wolf, I would’ve been done by now!” she rolled her bottom lip over her row of teeth and glare at him briefly before going back to using the soaked cloth on her back. He heard her inhale sharply and looked at her again. She barely had any more open cuts on her; most of them had healed up to being scars again. She _did_ have a point.

            Vilkas smirked lightly and rolled his eyes before tossing the book on the ground and stood up, walking over to her slowly. She heard him approach and turned around again to face him. “What’re you doing?” Aerion’s puzzled face almost made him smirk again as he waved at her to turn around again.

            “You’re taking too long,” he replied softly as he pushed her hair out of the way, taking the cloth from her and dowsing it more water before lightly rubbing down her back.

            “I was almost done, no thanks to you!” she shot back. He could practically feel the blush on her face and smiled lightly behind her back. Her heartbeat was racing through his head.

            He chuckled lightly. “I know. You did a good job,” he remarked, soaking the cloth again. Aeiron swallowed; his bare hand on her shoulder was beginning to feel unbearably _hot_. She found herself leaning back into him and dropping her shoulders, humming lightly. She hadn’t had a back massage in ages.

            Before she knew it, he was done. “There,” he finally spoke up as he tossed the cloth on the table. His breath fanned across her skin and she shuddered lightly, holding her breath and feeling her lungs about to explode. “Get dressed.” She felt something else warm by his hand on her neck briefly, only for a fleeting moment before he finally detached himself from her. When she turned around, her hair was covering her back again and he was strapping on his armor.

            Aeiron stared at him for a moment, blinking her eyes before contorting her face in confusion. “Where’re we going?” she asked, walking over to pick up her armor.

            Vilkas looked up at her and smiled lightly. “You said you know Blackreach pretty well,” he spoke as he slid his boots on. He looked up at her again when he grabbed his gauntlets. Aeiron already had on most of her armor when he looked at her again. “Feel like exploring a bit? I read Sinderion’s journal about the Crimson Nirnroot and feel like finding some.”

            Aerion’s face lit up like a million suns as she gave him the warmest grin.

* * *

 

            “The falmer come back in their numbers every few months. I usually come down here every once in a while to ‘clean house’, but haven’t had the chance lately,” Aeiron explained as they made their way to a nearby ledge. She pointed out the falmer huts that were on the ground a fair distance away. Vilkas saw the fresh human blood dripping out of their mouths and gritted his teeth. It didn’t take him long to spot the fresh human corpses that were in the center of their campsite by the pyre.

            “I know you normally don’t like stealth, but you need it here.” She looked at him carefully. “Between the Dwarven Centurions, _them_ ,” she gestured to the falmer with her hand. “their pets, the frost trolls, and the giant—”

            “There’s a _giant_ down here?” Vilkas gave her a skeptical look. Aeiron laughed nervously and nodded her head.

            “Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that, too,” she sighed.

            Vilkas stood up and she followed him. “We should get going, then. I don’t feel like encountering any falmer anytime soon.”

            Aeiron nodded and they both turned from the ledge. An arrow whizzed through the air and stabbed itself into Vilkas’ arm. He cursed and staggered back a step or two.

            “Vilkas!” Aeiron began to frantically look around. There were ten of them slowly enclosing on them now. Her face fell. “Too late,” she mumbled.

            Vilkas stood up and snapped the arrow in two, throwing the wood to the ground as he drew his greatsword with his good arm.

            “By the Gods, you’ll pay for that!” The color in his eyes tinted to a bright amber. A Falmer Shadowmaster flicked its hand and lightning sparked in its palm. Several others readied their bows with arrows ready to be fired.

            Vilkas and Aeiron shared a look before taking them head on.

 

           

           

             


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aeiron/VIlkas Shippers will be heavily treated in this chapter~

              Most of the Falmer were dead within a few minutes with only three or four of them left. The Shadowmaster was amongst the dead, lightning still bubbling in his dead hand. They worked through them quickly. Aeiron stepped to the side and swung her axe through the stomach of one Falmer that tried swinging its sword down at her. It hissed something unnatural and fell to the ground. Another swung at her head. Aeiron brought the handle of her battleaxe to block the Falmer’s sword. It was stronger than she looked and almost pushed her onto her ass. Aeiron gritted her teeth and kicked it in its knee. She pushed the sword off of her hilt and sliced through the Falmer’s body down in a straight line up to its abdomen. She wrenched her blade free and paused for a moment and then realized that there were no more by her.

        Slowly, she relaxed and stood up, smiling lightly while her breathing returned to normal. Feeling the adrenaline pumping through her veins again felt nice; she felt like she was still functioning. “Hey, Vilkas! I think we’re done,” she called over her shoulder as she swung her axe over it, admiring her handy work. His ragged breathing a few feet away was the only thing she heard in reply. Her stomach sunk and her face fell. “Vilkas…?”

        She wished she hadn’t turned around.

        He was on his knees with one hand holding the hilt of his sword, blade buried in the ground, while the other one had blood oozing over it from where it was pressed at his side. The armor was sliced through and he was bleeding profusely.

        “VILKAS!”

        Aeiron scrambled to get to his side, discarding her axe entirely and ignoring the stinging of her knees as they scraped the ground when she fell and crawled the rest of the way to his side.  Her hands ghosted over his as she looked at the wound, and then looked at him. Large beads of sweat were dripping down from his temples and brow. The wound was oozing out bubbles and sizzling with his blood.

        Poison.

        Her breathing became erratic as she felt panic flowing through her. What to do, what to do, what to do… She pushed his hand away and bent her head down to the cut. It was smaller than she thought, but still a nasty one nevertheless. Aeiron swallowed and tied her hair back with a ribbon she had around her wrist and reached into her pouch for a potion. “Hang on, I got what you need, Wolf,” she spoke, mostly to herself. Vilkas groaned weakly in response, grip growing looser on his sword. She tore the cork out with her teeth and dumped the whole bottle on the wound. Vilkas groaned again and gritted his teeth.

        The bubbling stopped as well as the bleeding. Aeiron breathed a sigh of relief as she looked up at him. He was staring at her with tiny slits for eyes. The amber in them slowly receded back to their silver and somehow popped out at her, stared through her. Aeiron brushed away some sticky strands of hair and swallowed hard. “We should head back to the lab. You need to rest up,” she spoke quietly. Vilkas nodded lethargically and moved to get up slowly. Aeiron sheathed her battleaxe and slung the pack over her shoulder before reaching around and supporting his weight with hers.

        Thankfully, they weren’t farm from the small lab and reached it within a few minutes. Aeiron barred the door behind her after she deposited Vilkas onto the bed. Aeiron reached down by the door and picked up his greatsword that he had dropped, leaning it against the wall next to the small chair. She stripped her gauntlets and tossed them carelessly onto the floor before rushing to the bedside. Vilkas was fumbling with the buckles and straps of his armor. Aeiron realized how pale his skin had gotten and how sickly he looked now by the fire. She pushed his hands away and worked efficiently to remove his breastplate, gauntlets, and then boots.

        Vilkas let his head fall back with a long sigh, chest heaving a bit as he breathed deeply. He watched her walk around frantically while looking for whatever she needed. Aeiron grabbed a rag from the nightstand and dipped it in the basin he had used for her, soaking it in the cold water before gingerly bringing it to the cut. Vilkas clamped his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, letting out a strained breath through his nose. “Easy, Woman,” he ground out. His fists had an iron like grip on the bedding below him.

        “Almost done,” she spoke quietly; shyly even he almost dared to think. Slowly, his body began to grow less tense and relaxed. It stung less when she dabbed at the wound with the cloth. Aeiron threw the washcloth over the lip of the basin and carefully placed it back on the nightstand. Vilkas saw the water had turned completely blood red. His eyes returned to her when he heard her talk under her breath and frantically pick up her pack and search through it. Aeiron put a sewing needle between her teeth and pulled out some thick string a few seconds later.

        “You sew?” he asked weakly. Aeiron paused and looked at him as he arched an eyebrow at her. She blinked her eyes a few times before she worked on threading the needle.

        “I don’t make clothes or anything fancy like that if that’s what you mean,” she spoke plainly. Aeiron tied a knot through the eye of the needle before scooting closer to him and leaning closer to his wound. “But most of Ulfric’s men say that I can stitch a wound together and make it seem like it was never there.”

        He flinched when the needle pierced his skin the first time. The flesh by his cut was still sensitive and made his nerves feel on fire. Vilkas sighed heavily, staring at the ceiling for a moment before rolling his eyes to look at her again. “Oh, really?”

        “Mhmm.” He was almost shocked by how focused she was as she stitched the wound closed.

        He stared at her for what seemed like hours. His mind was too fogged up to think of anything witty to say to lighten the situation. “You know,” he began, words slurring a bit. Her eyes flickered up to him for a brief moment as she continued sewing. “I’ve never seen you with your hair tied back before.”

        A small smile tugged at her lips as she took a small pause before returning to her task. “Oh really?”

        “Mhmm.” He felt her starting to finish up the stitching work. He watched her as she finally finished, pulling back with a satisfied look in her eye as she knotted the end and threw the supplies back into her pack. Aeiron unsheathed the dagger strapped to her thigh and pursed her lips. “I still have to get the arrowhead out.”

        Vilkas groaned uncomfortably and nodded. He raised his hand weakly. “Just get it over with already. It’s starting to drive me mad.”

        Aeiron nodded and looked at the stump that was buried in his shoulder. He left about an inch or two that wasn’t embedded in him. She grabbed the wood and yanked it out in one quick movement. Vilkas groaned loudly and Aeiron examined the arrowhead that was now glistening red in the dim light of the fire. “No poison,” she smiled and looked at him as he removed the stump from his mouth. “It’s a good thing that you broke it where you did, otherwise I would have had to dig it out.”

 

       Vilkas smirked wearily and nodded, inhaling deeply though his nose. The wound on his side had healed quickly and the hole where the arrow had been already had begun to close up. Aeiron widened her eyes for a moment and then sighed lightly. “I keep forgetting that you’re a lycan.”

        “It comes in handy in moments such as these,” he spoke up. The smirk faded from his lips and his eyes lost the mirth that was there seconds before.  “I’ve enjoyed the boons that come with beast blood. Just like every member of the Circle. Kodlak is right, though. We’ve given a piece of our souls for this power. I know my mythic histories. Bargains like that lead to ruin. This is a curse that was laid upon us. That much is clear.”

        Aeiron remained silent for a moment before nodding her head and quietly speaking up, “When do you think you’ll be free of the curse?”

        He was quiet. He offered no answer as he stared up at the ceiling and sighed. “I don’t know.” Aeiron looked down at her lap, grip tightening on her dagger for a moment before sheathing it again. She took the stump from his hand and threw it into her pack.

        She froze when she felt her hair come undone and his hand brush against it. Aeiron sat up to look at him again, seeing him paused with the ribbon in his raised hand. She smiled nervously and raised an eyebrow at him. “What did you do that for?”

        “I didn’t like it,” he spoke a little louder this time, a tired smirk at his mouth.

        Aeiron narrowed her eyes at him. “Didn’t like what?”

        “That look in your eyes just now.” His answer completely took her off guard.

       She scoffed and turned her head away from his reach. “You’re imagining things. Looks like some of that poison settled into your bloodstream after all.”

        Vilkas frowned at her. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

        Aeiron gave him a pointed look. “It means you’re supposed to mind your own damn business.” She moved to get up. Vilkas’ hand snapped around her bandaged-covered arm. She hissed and glared daggers at him.

        “No biting yourself.” He growled.

        Her eyes widened slightly, clearly taken back for a moment, but just for a moment. Her glare returned and she gritted her teeth, trying to shake him off.  “Don’t tell me what to—!” He wouldn’t let go and his grip grew tighter. Aeiron winced. Her arm began to burn. She looked up and instantly regretted that she had.

        His eyes had an amber glow to them, a subtle one that she wouldn’t have seen if she weren’t sitting so close to him. She turned her head away and pursed her lips, forcing the tears back.

        “Aeiron,” he called her name, almost in the way a stern father would while lecturing them.

        “It’s my fault,” she breathed quietly.

        Vilkas’ face fell. “It’s my fault that you’re like this,” he heard her weakly whisper. “It’s always my fault when people get hurt. I keep screwing up, and screwing up, and screwing up again and again…”

        He heard her shaky breathing and felt her arm tremble beneath his grasp. Aeiron ran a hand through her hair and inhaled a shaky breath. She turned to look at him with a feigned smile “Honestly, how do you put up with me? I w—”

        Loud banging on the door erupted. Falmer hisses and growls seeped into the room from the crack underneath the door. The door’s metal thundered in the small lab and echoed in her ears. She turned to look at Vilkas. His eyes were beginning to glow amber. His hand ran up her arm and he raised his other hand to slowly pull her towards him. Aeiron, however, stood up and slipped on her gauntlets. The Wolf glared at her. “Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled.

        Aeiron shot him a defiant look. “I can’t let them get in here. They’ll tear you apart if they get through!”

        “You’re not going anywhere!” Vilkas’ voice rose, almost as loud as the banging and scratches on the golden doors. He moved to sit up, gritting his teeth as he did so. She heard him hiss and watched as he lifted his hand to press down at the wound on his side. Her eyes softened. She looked down at her feet briefly before continuing to strap on her gauntlets.

        “That’s not up to you, Vilkas,” she spoke quietly, glaring at the doors. Dents were beginning to take shape in the thick metal. When she turned her head to look at him again, he was watching her intently. There was a long pause between them.

        “How many of them are there?” he asked in a whisper.

        Aeiron paused and closed her eyes. “Laas,” she whispered. A horde or red shapes assaulted her vision from beyond the walls. “I can’t tell exactly. There’s too many of them for me to count…,” she paused and turned to look at Vilkas again. “twenty at most,” she shrugged.

        She walked over and draped the furs over him slowly, avoiding his eyes. The banging on the door grew louder. Aeiron held the furs in her hand for a moment longer than she should have before finally letting them go. She looked up at Vilkas; saw the anger boiling in those silver eyes of his. Aeiron sighed and bowed her head, leaning over towards him. Her breath fanned against the shell of his ear lightly. The words were caught in her throat for a moment. She swallowed hard, and then spoke up.

        “Slán, mac tire,” she whispered. Another shaky breath left her. “I love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty.” She pressed her lips lightly to his cheek, feeling him tense up beneath her touch. When she pulled away, he was staring at her with wide eyes. “I knew it was either you or Ralof that had to have left me that, but then I remembered that Ralof never read King Lear,” she smiled sadly and bowed her head. “I’m sorry that I’m not good enough, Vilkas. You can do better.” Aeiron moved to shoulder her battleaxe. “When you go back to Whiterun, settle for someone who isn’t a piece of shit like me. You’ll be better off.”

        The cacophony against the metal door ceased abruptly. Aeiron gave a sharp glare at the door, licking her lips as she took unsure steps towards the door. She placed her ear against the cold metal. Her eyes slowly moved from the door to the ceiling above her. She gave a dark chuckle and cracked her knuckles. “If that’s how they want to do it…”

        Aeiron turned to Vilkas and paused, giving him one last look with a small smile on her face before undoing the bar and pushing the door open. She glared into the darkness and warily stepped out. A sharp kick to the door made the bar fall down as the door slammed closed behind her. Aeiron undid turned her head and peered into the darkness surrounding her. “Laas.”

        Falmer ran up to her, surrounding her as two Shadowmasters crept closer, staffs twitching with magica waiting to be used. Their teeth gleamed at her and their eyes appraised her as their next meal with watering mouths. She glared at them, eyeing them from left to right. Her teeth ground against each other. Her muscles tensed throughout her body.

        She closed her eyes, sucking in a quiet breath. It went completely silent at that moment. A heartbeat later, they shot open, bright icy blue eyes glowing in the darkness.

        A strong gust of wind blew through the Falmer numbers, passing between them here and there, blowing by with a threatening and deadly speed. Aeiron paused fifteen feet from them, standing up straight and rolling the hilt of her axe over her hand in a nonchalant manner. She turned to look back at them with glaring eyes.

        Several dismembered bodies fell to the ground. The Falmer winced and jumped back in alarm, some readying their bows while others charged forward with their swords and axes. Aeiron narrowed her eyes and disappeared in a blur. She appeared again behind one Falmer underling, slicing through its abdomen with ease. Another instant, she was gone, and then she was there, dagger piercing through the hard chittin armor of another Falmer’s back. She let go of the dagger and glared at the Shadowmasters as the next one fell to the ground, choking on its own blood.

        She worked her way through another one and sliced his abdomen in half from head to stomach, and another one with a sweep of its legs and a sickening crunch of the battleaxe cutting through bone and effectively slicing the Falmer’s heart in half. Another Falmer launched an arrow at her. She caught it in her hand and snapped it in half, glaring at the beast. She became a blur again and reappeared again severing its head.

        Aeiron stood up straight again and rested her battleaxe on her shoulder, turning her head to look at the Shadowmasters. One suddenly appeared right in front of her. Her eyes widened. She moved to block the staff as it moved to make contact with her.

       Small embers sparked off of the clashing metal. They sought out Aeiron’s skin and swelled up there, caressing it with an angry red mark across the underside of her arm. She winced and moved backwards. The Shadowmaster made another swing at her. She raised her axe again and blocked the oncoming blow and pushed it away from her. More sparks made their mark on her face and neck. The ringing of the metal rang in her ears. She almost stumbled taking another step backwards. The Falmer followed her relentlessly and hissed at her. Its hand twitched with magica, flames seeping up from the pale white flesh. Aeiron turned her head and dodged the fireball, moving to swing her battleaxe down at the beast again.

       Her eyes glowed again as she swung. The blade sliced through flesh and took of an arm, blood pooling to the ground. The shadowmaster stumbled backwards and used its remaining arm to balance itself against its staff. Aeiron took a few steps forward, glaring as she readied her battleaxe above her shoulder.

       A swordblade pierced the Falmer from behind. It gave a horrifying guttural noise as the blade was jerked from its body before slumping to the ground. Aeiron blinked her eyes and lowered her axe. The glow receded quickly as she eyed Vilkas standing over the body, grunting lightly before lowering his sword. “And that takes care of that.”

       Her eyes all but bugged out of her skull. He stood there in only his trowsers, sword in hand and wounds still an angry red, but they had closed up. She turned her head towards the other Shadowmaster, seeing its corpse lying on the ground not too far away. “Vilkas,” she mumbled. “How…?” 

      Vilkas impaled his sword into the ground, eyeing her dangerously as he began to stalk over towards her. Aeiron moved to take a step back but she was caught in his grasp, his grip around her arm. He yanked her close and wound his other arm around her back. Any protests she was about to voice were cut off with his mouth crashing onto hers almost violently. Aeiron dropped her battleaxe by her side.

      She immediately tried to push him off of her, groaning when he pulled her closer and kissed her more possessively. Her arms were trapped between their chests and her movements were limited as she squirmed in his arms. Vilkas finally pulled away. Aeiron felt her cheeks flush and the burning sensation in her lungs finally was going away. A small shiver ran up her spine when she saw the hungry look in his eyes.

      “Don’t ever tell me that you’re not good enough,” he growled. Her eyes widened and her face fell. “Ever.” She felt her eyes begin to water. “I spent days looking for you, I couldn’t sleep at night because you haunt my dreams and every waking second. You single handedly defeated a Nightmaster vampire. You kill dragons as if it is a casual activity for you. You are strong and quick and—” he paused abruptly, almost as if he was choking on his own words now. Vilkas swallowed roughly and raised a hand to gently cup her face. A few tears streamed out of Aeiron’s eyes. “I don’t know what I would do if something were to happen to you.”

      Aeiron bit her bottom lip and looked away. Her body shook with a choked back sob that she tried to keep down. Vilkas wrapped his arms around her and brought her closer to himself again, this time burying his face into her hair and resting his head on her shoulder. Aeiron’s hands twitched at their sides as blankly stared up at the small glowing specs around them. A small sob tore out of her throat before she blinked her eyes. “You don’t have to do this alone, Aeiron,” he quietly mumbled into her ear. His lips were pressed to her temple before he leaned back to look at her. “And no more crying.” He spoke up louder this time. “The Aeiron I know would try and beat the beast blood out of me for what I just did.” She smiled lightly, rubbing her hands by her eyes to get rid of the remaining tears. A small laugh left her as gazed up at him again.

      Vilkas gently gripped her arm and raised it, inspecting the burn marks now on her flesh. His eyes flickered up from her arm to her cheek and neck. He rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration. Aeiron stared at him with a confused expression. “Leave it to you to find some way of getting hurt whenever you step outside a door.” He picked up his sword and grasped her hand, leading her back to the lab. Aeiron followed silently, still staring at him with widened eyes and feeling like the world around her was spinning.

      He sat her down on the bed and quickly treated her burns. Aeiron’s eyes followed his motions and watched him. The stinging sensation of the cold water against her burned skin did little to bring her out of her stupor. This couldn’t be happening, but it was. It all seemed so surreal. Somewhere between then and now she must have taken off of her armor; she was just in her tunic again.

      She watched the flexing muscles of his arms and back and the way they shined by the firelight. Her eyes trailed down to his abdomen, seeing the carved out muscles and the faint scars that littered his body. Her lower lip slid in between her teeth without her knowing it.       

      Aeiron finally came to her when she heard him speak up again, “Aeiron,” he called her name. She looked up at Vilkas, seeing him bent over the cooking pot by the fire and stopped in place, hands still gripping the wooden spoon. His tone of voice carried a warning but she couldn’t figure out why.   

      “Hmm?” she blinked her eyes a few times, looking up at him with a confused look.

       He chuckled darkly and stood up straight, slowly walking over towards her. Aeiron swallowed lightly. Her throat suddenly went dry and her body felt hot all over for some unknown reason. Vilkas leaned down towards her, placing a hand on either side of her and bowed his head to her eye level. “Be careful with that look you’re giving me,” he spoke in a low baritone, a small smirk on his face.

       Aeiron’s face flushed. She frowned and tilted her head slightly. “What look?” she asked, almost angrily.

       Vilkas chuckled again and she felt like smacking that smug grin off of his face. “You forget, Lioness, that I am a werewolf. I can smell your heartbeat,” he leaned ever so slightly closer. Her heartbeat was thumping faster in his ears. “And I can see the hunger in your eyes when you look at me,” he spoke lower, almost a husky growl. Aeiron’s legs immediately clamped together as she pursed her lips and leaned her head away from his. She couldn’t stop the heat that was beginning to pool between her legs.

      Aeiron gasped lightly when he grinned, baring his canines at her before leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers. He was much gentler than before. Aeiron felt her eyes close instinctively and she leaned into his touch. His hand reached over and clasped one of hers that was resting by her side, fingers beginning to grasp hers. Vilkas pulled away too soon for her liking. He kissed her again; he pecked her lightly on her lips before standing up again, smirking down at her.

       "The food will be ready shortly,” he spoke up. Aeiron let his hand slip out of hers as he walked back to the fireplace. She found herself a little disappointed and didn’t understand why. Her stomach then growled lightly. She gave an incredulous look at her abdomen and then a small laugh. Vilkas walked over with two plates, handing one to her as he took a seat on the bed besides her. They shared a look before digging into the meal that they both needed.

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! FINALLY! THEY FINALLY SPILLED THAT THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER! :D  
> I better hear from more of you than usual for this chapter XD


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this ISN'T how I originally imagined this chapter going. I'll have more to say at the end notes.

“Aeiron, stop moving,” Vilkas’ voice was heavy and his words were slurred. She wouldn’t lay still for the life of her. 

“Just let me sleep on the other side of the bed,” she whined in response. He huffed and tightened his arms around her. “This feels too weird.”

“You’re going to have to get used to this, Stormblade,” he sighed. She tried shifting out of his grip again. His arms only tightened around her. “I’m not letting you sleep alone when I’m around-” a loud yawn cut the wolf’s words. He looked down to see a large flush color Aeiron’s cheeks as she pouted tiredly. 

The fire was slowly dying out in the hearth and the room was lit only by the fire’s small flickers on the wall. 

“Vilkas. Let. Me Go.”

He smirked and chuckled lightly, moving his hand further up her back. “No,” he gave her a smug grin. Her cheeks flared up even more. Thankfully she was too tired to actually fight it out with him, otherwise sleep would be more difficult to achieve than it already was. 

But then again, he stood corrected. 

Aeiron groaned loudly before flipping Vilkas onto his back, her moving to straddle him. Vilkas was ready for his back to be slammed into the stone bed beneath them, but she proved to be more gentle in her movements this time. The action itself was more swift than anything. 

Aeiron sighed and looked down at him; melancholy clouded her eyes. “We’re going to have to go back soon, you know,” she spoke quietly. Her hands rested beside his ribs in balled up fists. She pursed her lips and leaned back with a long sigh, moving to get off of him. Vilkas grabbed her hips to hold her in place. 

“...Is that what is eating at you?” His voice was soft. He wasn’t yelling at her like she expected him to. His thumbs were rubbing small circles into the exposed skin below her tunic. She felt herself become somewhat less tense. Reluctantly, she looked around the room before nodding her head quietly. 

“Yeah, y-yeah it is.” she sighed heavily. The look Vilkas was giving her wasn’t helping much. It made her feel so exposed. “Ulfric, Vignar, vampires...being the  _ Dragonborn _ -”

Vilkas abruptly moved to sit up, his hands sliding on her skin to grip her hips more firmly. Aeiron gasped lightly and her hands automatically went to his shoulders. He found it amusing how she wasn’t used to such close contact with people, used to hands possessively holding her hips or bite marks on her neck or...he moved his hands to wrap around her back before his thoughts ran away from him. 

“Don’t worry about that now,” his small smile diminished somewhat. He eyed the front of her body before slowly looking back up at her. The blush on her cheeks wasn’t helping the situation much. He watched as she swallowed nervously, her breathing somewhat harsh. “They can’t touch us here. We’ll leave when we’re ready,” he smiled comfortingly. Aeiron couldn’t help but  _ stare _ . This was so unlike him. 

Aeiron dipped her head down to the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, inhaling deeply. He felt her shudder and looked down at her. “I don’t want to go back,” she whispered in a shaky breath. His hands moved in soothing patterns on her back. She only held him tighter. “...I’m tired of everyone relying on me,” her voice cracked. Aeiron cleared her throat and blew out the air in her lungs. “I need a feckin’ vacation.”

Vilkas laughed through his nose and couldn’t help the small smile he gave at her comment. “We  _ could _ stay down here. Although the Falmer continuously trying to kill us puts a damper on things.” He felt Aeiron smirk against his neck and her soft laugh lifted the weight off of his chest he didn’t even know was there. 

“Well, it seems everytime we try to have a down moment something  _ always _ tries to kill us,” Aeiron lifted her head to look at him, still leaning against his chest. He looked down at her gently, a look on his face she hadn’t seen in a long while. “Seems boring otherwise.”

“If you call you being cut up and me being poisoned entertainment, I feel I should be more concerned than I already am,” Vilkas gave her a pointed look with a raised eyebrow. She giggled lightly, inhaling deeply and wearing a wide grin on her face. 

She arched an eyebrow challengingly. “Since  _ when _ has that stopped you before?”

Vilkas smirked and narrowed his eyes at her. “Mmm, good point.” He leaned in close, ready to swoop in to steal a kiss from her. Aeiron laughed and leaned her head away from him. He continued and she laughed louder, trying to push him away with her hands. She tried wiggling out of his grasp but he wouldn’t let her go. 

“Vilkas! Stop it!” Her face was flushing from how close he was. The air in her lungs seemed to disappear completely as his lips brushed hers. His hand came up and tangled itself in her hair. He growled playfully, fingers lightly skimming at her sides. Aeiron shrieked and squirmed in his grasp even more, her breath coming in and out in ragged breaths as she tried to contain her laughter. The wolf smirked to himself as he leaned in closer. His lips skimmed over hers before closing in. For once, he had effectively shut her up. 

He rolled them over and kissed her in what was a combination of the previous two he had given her; gentle as the second one and possessive as the first. His hand slid up to tangle itself in her hair as he felt her place her hands on his shoulders. A groan escaped him when her fingers were in his hair. 

Aeiron pulled away abruptly with pupils dilated and a flushed face, harsh breathing passing through her gaping mouth. Vilkas swallowed,  _ hard _ . He stared back and watched as she licked her lips. One of his hands came up and tucked away a few strands of her hair behind her ear. She smiled appreciatively and sighed. “We should leave soon,” she spoke.

Vilkas raised an eyebrow at her. “And why is that?”

“Those bandits have more than likely told someone where we went. They may try to come after us again,” Aeiron huffed when he rolled his eyes and sighed harshly.

“If you honestly think I’m going to let a bunch of harebrain bandits and mercenaries try to take  _ my _ woman, they’ve got another thing coming,” he groaned and nuzzled her neck. Aeiron visibly tensed. His lips and breath against the sensitive skin made shivers go down her spine, but she still gave him a pointed look. 

“Since when have I been  _ your _ woman?” she asked incredulously. 

Vilkas lifted his head to give her a lazy yet annoyed smile. “Since you slapped me across the face with your battleaxe, Woman.” 

Aeiron couldn’t hold back her laughter; it was boisterous and obnoxiously loud. THe sound was music to his ears. “Fair enough. I thought werewolves mated in a more... _ animalistic _ manner, though.” she blinked her eyes at him innocently. Vilkas saw it as anything but. The words seemed to spark something deep within him. 

His throat suddenly went dry and he licked his lips. Aeiron’s face fell and she swallowed hard. He got off of her abruptly and stood up from the bed and began walking towards where his armor was. Aeiron stared at him completely and utterly perplexed. 

After sighing heavily, he turned to look at her again as he began to strap on his armor. “Come on, I don’t feel like staying in this gods-forsaken hole in the ground any longer than we have to.”

Aeiron quietly nodded and stood up from the bed. She picked up her armor, stared at it for a long moment and listened intently to the buckles and straps rustle and stretch before looking up at him. Her gaze hardened as she lowered her hands somewhat. “We’re going to Haafingar,” she said. 

Vilkas finished strapping on his kilt and paused - turned to look at her over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow, considering his next words carefully.  “What’s in Haafingar?” She let out a shaky breath. The grip on her armor tightened. Aeiron couldn’t seem to force the words out of her throat. Vilkas slowly turned to place his chest piece on the chair by the door and strolled over towards her with careful steps. Her breathing grew louder when he stopped in front of her. She refused to look at him. “It’s your father, isn’t it?”

He watched as Aeiron’s body tensed before she released the air that had been trapped in her lungs. She nodded her head shyly. Vilkas heaved his chest. 

She bit her bottom lip. He sounded annoyed, angry almost. She was about to storm past him when he gave a small laugh. A hand came under her chin and tilted her head upwards. Her eyes met his, crinkled around the edges with mirth. “Alright, I’ll tag along,” his thumb stroked the scar that ran down her chin. “We’ll have to steer clear of towns and travelers.”

Aeiron slowly frowned. “This isn’t like him.”

Vilkas raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“Vignar,” she answered. “He’s never acted this way before.”

“Vampires have also never attacked in a town before.”

Aerion had to nod her head in agreement. “That’s true.” She moved swiftly to slide off her tunic and toss it on the bed. She didn’t see the change in his eyes as she quickly adorned her armor. As she pulled her hair out from underneath the armor’s leather neckline, she looked back up at him. “Ready to go?”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked but said nothing as he followed her lead out of the laboratory.

* * *

When they first came back up to the surface, it was past midnight with the two moons up above, an aurora shimmering in the sky. The bandits were gone, but Aeiron sensed that they wouldn’t be alone for long if they lingered. She suggested traveling by night and he didn’t say no. They broke camp at dawn at the Lord Stone after killing the bandits there and burning their bodies. Vilkas fell asleep soon after the encounter but Aeiron couldn’t fall asleep right away. Her mind was racing and her hands twitching with anxious energy that was painfully pent up. Charred skin and blood still filled her nostrils as her mind kept taking her back to the arena. The cuts, the bruises, the torture-

She pushed it out of her head and forced herself to clear her head. Sleep still did not come easy. 

They began traveling in the late afternoon again after Vilkas awoke her with a few shrugs and gentle pushes. The snow was crunchy beneath their feet as they began to gather their things and head out. Aeiron’s eyes caught sight of the plateau about 100 yards away and froze. Black eyes stared back at her. 

Vilkas’ face contorted at her petrified face. The wolf began howling in his blood. “What is it?” He followed her gaze. His eyes turned a small tint of amber as he snarled. “Daedra,” he spat, drawing his greatsword with one arm as he wrapped the other one around her possessively. 

The daedra hadn’t moved at all as it stared down at them, arms crossed and bearing an unamused countenance. Vilkas pulled her to his side and slowly walked her down the remaining steps of stone, eyes never leaving the daedra’s. Aeiron’s eyes darted back and forth between the creature from Oblivion and the wolf next to her, who was just  _ itching _ to jump at the daedra. Vilkas didn’t drop his guard until it was out of sight. Aeiron had to pry his arm off of her, his grip was that strong. They said nothing and continued along the way. 

It was early evening when they reached Hjaalmarch’s swamps and marshes. Aeiron’s instincts danced along her nerve endings. The area was heavily infested with vampires and rogue werewolves that would sometimes take to killing the careless wanderer or townsperson. The marsh waters were warm and easily buried her up to her waist in their bodies. Vilkas treaded in front of her, only encased up to his knees in the water, something she was rather envious of. 

The insects were alive and buzzing aloud, animals calling out into the night with the full twin moons above them. Aeiron paused, feeling something behind her. Her blood ran cold. Vilkas was far up ahead but not too terribly distant from her. She slowly turned, despite her instincts screaming at her to run. A pair of hungry amber eyes met her stare as short breaths left the monster’s open mouth. She almost screamed as her body jerked and clumsily planted a foot in the river’s muddy floor. 

The werewolf stood there, staring at her and licking its canines. Fresh blood dripped from its claws and held a sinister gleam to them in the moonlight. Her hand inched upwards in the air. Aeiron slowly reached for her battleaxe. She heard the lion in her blood roar ferociously at the beast. Her eyes hardened and the fear dissipated. 

The wolf bowed its head and then took off into a nearby thicket. Aeiron watched it for a moment, clearly perplexed. As she turned around, she saw Vilkas staring at her with amber eyes and his sworn drawn. The look in his eyes made her question who she should truly be afraid of.

They camped soon after by the riverside. Vilkas took first watch this time and left no room for her to argue with him. Aeiron eyed him, his back facing her as she slowly found herself growing more tired by the minute. The fire was soothing and gave her the warmth that she found herself seeking for the past day or so. Vilkas seemed to be so distant now. Before she fell asleep, she could’ve sworn she heard her father say the words “Soon, Babygirl, soon” in her ear.

The next day, Aeiron found herself wandering below the archway that held the Blue Palace erect. It felt surreal to her. She never truly grasped how high up the castle was from the ocean until now. Vilkas had seemed to warm up with the temperature change. He now talked to her, joked with her even as they trekked onward. He walked closer to her now, helping her cross an unsteady beam of hop over a log. He held her hand with the care a nobleman would have for a lady. Aeiron couldn’t help but find the sentiment endearing as it made her heart speed up whenever he helped her. 

“It’s a nice day,” he commented at one point as they walked along an old and worn path. Aeiron looked at him and nodded. 

“It is,” she mused. 

Vilkas paused and bent down with a groan. “Here,” he said. 

She looked at him in confusion until she saw what was in his hand; a blue mountain flower. Aeiron grinned like an idiot as her cheeks flushed. He smirked and brushed back some of her hair to sit the flower behind her ear. “There,” he spoke, clearly satisfied. 

Aeiron pursed her lip and lowered her head. She heard him chuckle and felt a chaste peck on her cheek before hearing his boots clank together. When she looked up, he was already ten paces ahead of her. “Hey!” she hollered and jogged to catch up. “Wait up!” 

They reached the Steed stone before midnight. It was a steep hike and took longer than they had both anticipated. Vilkas took his time climbing to ensure that he  _ didn’t _ break his neck, unlike Aeiron, who just went as fast as she humanly could up the slope. The aurora’s up above lit up the woods and trees around them. Aeiron ran up the rest of the way, stopping to catch her breath once the stone monument was in sight. Her lungs burned, but she soon forgot about that as her breath hitched. Vilkas slowed down next to her and paused, following her line of sight. 

The hooded figure turned to face them both. Corpses littered the area surrounding him. Aeiron straightened up and stared at him, tears watering her eyes. The aurora reflected the sheen of his hazel eyes. Before he Vilkas stop her, she ran past him and towards the man. “ATHAIR!”

The figure lowered his hood immediately and opened his arms to catch her, twirling her in the air. Aeiron cried loudly, burying her head into the man’s shoulder. Philip fell onto his knees, holding Aeiron close to him as she sobbed into his chest. Vilkas cautiously took a step forward, and then another, and then-

Aeiron pulled away and punched her father square in the jaw. The old man fell over with a loud grunt several feet away from her. “START TALKING!  _ NOW _ !” Aeiron screamed at the top of her lungs. Hot tears still fell from her eyes as she glared at the man. 

“Heh, nice to see you still have a  _ killer _ right hook, Aeiron,” the old man snickered painfully as he slowly moved to get up. Aeiron was ready to throw another punch at him when he quickly put his hands up in defense. “Ey, easy now-  _ EASY _ !” 

Aeiron gritted her teeth and reluctantly let her bawled up fist fall to her side with a frustrated groan. “Where  _ were _ you! You son of a B-”

“Aeiron!” Philip yelled sternly. Vilkas watched as she tensed up and her anger quickly disappeared. “ _ Listen _ to me!” He waited a long and torturous moment before speaking up again. “I am  _ so _ sorry for all you had to go through without me, but I had no choice. I can only imagine how much it must have  _ killed _ you to go through what you did, but the  _ vampires _ , those  _ fucking  _ vampires have been on my ass for almost ten years now. I couldn’t get you involved. I-I couldn’t lose you too.” 

“Wait,  _ what _ about the vampires?” Aeiron’s face contorted into something of both fear and confusion. The tears didn’t stop. “And what about the Thalmor?! Dad! Look at all of these dead bodies!” She angrily gestured to the corpses surrounding them. The gilded Elven armor was unmistakeable. She took a tense step forward towards him. “Where have you  _ been _ ?!” Aeiron buried her face in her hands and fell onto her knees, sobbing hysterically. 

Vilkas took a step backwards as he watched Phil warily approach her and wrap his arms around her. He shushed her and rubbed her head soothingly. She was out like a light within a minute. Philip picked her up and walked over to Vilkas. “Come on, I have a place we can go to.”

Vilkas stared at the man until he began disappearing behind the hill’s slope before following him. Philip lead them to an old house that had been recently repaired, Ironback Hideout it was called on one of the older maps, right? The hut was more spacious than it appeared on the outside. The wolf followed him inside and barred the door shut. Philip placed Aeiron on the large bed, tucking her in and brushing her hair away from her face. He smiled at the mountain flower in her hair, the back of his hand gently brushing her cheek. 

“Care to tell me who you are now?” Vilkas spoke cautiously, on his guard. The older man turned to look at him, mirth in his eyes as they squinted when he smiled. He extended his hand eagerly. 

“Hi, I’m Philip,” he greeted. Vilkas warily shook his hand. The old man’s grip on his hand was surprisingly strong for a man his age. 

“Vilkas,” the wolf replied. 

“Of the Companions?” Philip grinned. “Kodlak spoke highly of you, almost like a son.”

Vilkas frowned lightly. “How do you know of the Harbinger?”

The Celt took a seat by the fireplace and grabbed a bottle of mead. “I’m good friends with Kodlak and Skjor. Known ‘em for around, what...twenty years now?”

“You were a Companion?” 

Phil frowned. “I hadn’t realized I was no longer welcome in Jorrvaskr. When did this happen?”

Vilkas shook his head. “That is now what I mean-”

“I know, I know, only pullin’ your leg, Vilkas,” The man smirked tiredly. “I spoke to Kodlak recently. He agreed to help with our little ‘vampire’ issue.” 

The wolf glared at the horse. “What do you mean by ‘our’?”

Philip stared at the flames for a long moment, sighing heavily as if he had expected this. He turned to face Vilkas, all humor gone from his face. “Son, have you ever heard of the Dawnguard?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO HE FINALLY SHOWED UP!!! BUM BUM BUUUUUUM!!!!!   
> Comment below your two main questions you have for ol' Philip Leon-Croi and I will see you all in the next chapter! Love you all!


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I apologize for taking so long to update. I was on purposely putting off updating and waiting until my semester was over so I could give you all a more concrete chapter! And we also have some interesting interactions in this chapter and the next! So let me know what you guys think! :D

Vilkas woke up to the morning sun shining in through the bleak windows. The chair that he fell asleep by Aeiron’s side of the bed wasn’t the most comfortable way to sleep, but he had worse. 

Scanning the room, he noted that her father was missing. His back cracked loudly as he moved to stand up. A small fire was going in the hearth, the shack had a nice homey feel to it; quaint, secluded. He could get used to it. 

Aeiron was still fast asleep, curled up in a ball and quietly snoozing away. The mountain flower that had been in her hair was now in a small glass jar with water by the small nightstand. 

He kneeled down to her level, allowed his gauntlet-clad fingers to skim lightly along her messy brown hair and push some away from her face. She slept on still, looking as innocent as a child while being anything but. The skins that covered her last night had slid off and barely provided any warmth. He could see goosebumps along her exposed arms and legs.

Vilkas sighed and grabbed the edge of a large animal fur and slowly draped it along her, stopping when he reached her shoulder. Aeiron immediately relaxed and uncurled her form. His eyes darted back to the bandages along her arms. 

The bruises and swelling from her bites had gone down immensely over the past few days. He made sure she applied fresh bandages when they stopped for camp and allow her arms to soak in the snow or in a nearby stream for ten or twenty minutes. 

She had insisted that it wasn’t necessary for him to “baby” her, as she called it, but he wouldn’t relent and Aeiron knew this. She eventually acquiesced and allowed him to tend to her arms and bashfully looked away as he scrutinized them. He still remembers the vibrant flush of her cheeks as he peppered her arms with light kisses, one to each bruise and angry bite mark; from the inside of her wrist to her elbows. 

He almost lost it at the way she had bitten her lip and gnawed at it. 

The Wolf smiled fondly to himself, allowing the backs of his knuckles to lightly graze Aeiron’s cheek. 

The door opened and Vilkas turned to see Philip enter the room, a slight panic in his eye. “We’ve got a problem,” he spoke. His hair was a mess, small bits of snow and mud caked his face and clothes, and a slight sheen of sweat accompanied by his ragged breathing seemed to complete the picture. 

Vilkas stood and frowned at the man as he hastily barred the door shut and began closing all of the shutters. “What sort of problem?” The wolf found himself reaching for his longsword. 

Philip roughly grabbed the small kitchen table and shoved it up against the door. He turned to look at Vilkas before drawing an axe with one hand and marching over towards the bookcase by the fire. It opened like a door and revealed a small cache of weapons, ranging from crossbows to other oddities that the wolf had never seen before. 

“I went out this morning on a hunch, thought we weren’t alone.” Phil picked up several smoke bombs and attached them to his belt. “I was right.” He pointed towards a covered front window. Vilkas followed his gaze. “Thalmor’ve been searching the place. I didn’t think they’d be this hot on my arse.” 

Vilkas narrowed his eyes at the older man. “What about Aeiron?”

“They probably know about Vignar’s bounty. They’ll try taking her too if they know she’s here.” Phil peaked through the shutters. “This is why I’ve kept away from her.” The older man turned to look at Vilkas with annoyance. “I can’t afford to lose her just like I lost her mother.”

The wolf arched an eyebrow. “Her moth-”

“Shh!” Philip placed a finger over his closed mouth. “They’re here.” 

Vilkas took quiet but brisk steps over to Aeiron’s father and peered out through the opening in the shudders. Several Thalmor were on horseback, one kneeling in front of what looked to be some fresh tracks. No doubt he was a Justicar by the looks of him. 

He swallowed hard and eyed them. His body refused to move and grew as taut as a bow string. 

“They left a few hours ago,” the Justicar declared. He eyed the tracks and then looked back up at the other high elves in back of him. 

“Where do you think they’ve gone?” One female soldier asked. Her horse snorted and shook its head. 

The Justicar narrowed his eyes and followed the direction of the tracks. “The Reach, no doubt to regroup with those savage kinfolk of theirs in the mountains.” He stood up briskly and mounted his horse, who jerked at the tug of his reins. “If we hurry we’ll catch up with them by dusk.”

The posse took off in that direction, a rolling thunder in their wake. Moments after they left could Vilkas breathe normally again. He turned to eye the older man in confusion. “How  _ did _ those tracks get there?”

Philip smirked, the crows feet by his eyes wrinkling with mischief. “I was gone this morning for a reason.” He turned to look out the window once more before closing the shutter. “If we’re lucky, it’ll take them two days to realize that the whole thing was a rouse.”

Vilkas snapped. “Then why did you act like they were going to break the door down?!” His voice was louder than he intended it to be. Philip was clearly unphased by this; he simply chuckled lightly and patted the wolf on the shoulder. 

“I didn’t think it would work.” He answered quietly before trudging over to the bed where Aeiron was still sleeping away in. The old man plopped down tiredly next to her and sighed heavily. Aeiron immediately curled into his touch and snuggled into his embrace. 

Vilkas narrowed his eyes and spoke up, “Just how far out did you leave tracks for them?” 

Philip groaned lightly as his body weight settled into the bed. He peered an open eye at him before casually closing it and getting ready to go to sleep. “The Reach.”

Vilkas stared at him in awe and then eyed the tools and weapons that were handed to him minutes before. Just who was this man?

He was too awake to return to sleep, and the sun seemed to taunt him in reminder as the blinding sunlight penetrated the glass windows. Vilkas rolled his shoulders and shouldered his greatsword before trudging outside to find something to do. There was too much on his mind.

* * *

Aeiron smiled sweetly as she inhaled deeply, realizing that last night had not in fact been a dream. “Maidin mhaith, Athair (Good morning, Father),” she mumbled sweetly as she snuggled into the man’s side. She reluctantly blinked her eyes open and saw him looking at her through squinted eyes; his hair was completely disheveled and the lower part of his face was stretched, pronouncing the man’s laughter lines. Aeiron stared at him, a wide grin growing on her face. She raised a hand to ruffle the hair that was standing up in several directions. There was less atop his head then she remembered. His hair was thinner and more of his head showed. His roots sides were still a dark gray. There were more marks and scars scattered along his face, some from ingrown hairs that turned into acne, others from a close call with a blade, as the one along the left side of his face showed; it was an angry red streak cascading down his skin. 

“Morning, Baby Girl,” he mumbled with a small smile, eyes holding mirth as he looked at her.

He still smelled of Imperial spices, sweat, and a faint tinge of ale from a tavern; He still smelled the way he always had, and that was enough for her. Aeiron sighed happily, feeling tears weld up in her eyes and pursing her lips to keep herself from crying again. She shouldn’t be crying, but she  _ was _ . Her body was reacting on its own as Philip pulled her closer with the arm that was wrapped around her. She let out a soft sob and nuzzed her face into his chest, inhaling him again. His hand immediately went to stroke her hair, just as he always did to calm her down. She threw an arm around his neck and sighed, not minding the stubble that badly needed to be shaved away from his face.

The back of her mind still wondered where Vilkas was, though. She was doing something she never thought she would: thinking of another man other than her father.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she felt Philip plant a light kiss at her temple. Aeiron smiled sleepily and sighed. He waited until she was asleep again to get up.

 

* * *

Vilkas found himself enjoying the view from high on the mountains when he stopped hiking close to noon. He had always prefered the quiet of the wilderness to the bustling noise of city life. Nature seemed to be his calling, and it provided a calm that he couldn’t quite put into words. He sat down on a fallen log, a light groan of relief leaving him as he relaxed. 

On one hand, he wasn’t needed anymore; Aeiron had found her father with what seemed to be relative easiness. Something that seemed rather too easy, at that. She would be attached at his hip, follow the old man wherever he dared to venture, just as she had told him with her stories of their ventures before his absence. 

And yet, he still had to protect her and make sure she didn’t kill herself on whatever hair-raising dremora schemes that she comes up with. Vilkas was sure that her father had little to no clue about the woman’s injuries that she had sustained, a good majority of them being inflicted by herself. And knowing Aeiron, he was sure that she would never tell the man, or else be ashamed of herself. 

The Wolf sighed and shook his head. No woman should be worth this much trouble. 

“Hey,” a voice called out from behind him. Vilkas turned to see Philip standing behind him, a relaxed look to him. The wolf remained silent as he watched the older man approach him. Philip took a seat next to him, a soft sigh escaping him as he sat down.

Vilkas turned to look at the distant mountains and hillsides again. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” the Celt began. “It had been a few hours since you had left, so I figured I would see where you ran off to.” He offered the Companion a light-hearted smile, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He sighed again and Vilkas said nothing. 

“I want to thank you for taking care of my daughter, however,” Phil spoke up again. Vilkas immediately turned to look at him. “I know she’s a handful and can be quite difficult a majority of the time, but…” the old man sighed and looked at the wolf. “You’ve made it quite evident that you care for her, more so than one fellow Companion for another.” Vilkas pursed his lips as. “And I want you to continue to look after her.”

Vilkas scoffed and turned his head away, shaking it. “Your daughter does not love me, nor does she need my protection.” He found himself angry with her and he didn’t know why. “Aeiron has taken down a great deal of enemies without my help, both before and after I have met her. And no doubt without you around,” he turned to look at Philip, glaring at him lightly. “You should consider hanging around yourself before you ask others to take care of her for you.”

Philip stared at him, wide eyed and clearly taken back by the Companion’s words. And then a slow smile crept onto the Celt’s face after a long pause. He clapped the Wolf on the shoulder with a smirk. “You’re right, but you don’t know the whole story-”

“I know that Brynjolf told me about the day you left her behind,” Vilkas cut him off. 

“You don’t know about her mother, though, do you?” Philip’s smirk disappeared; it was clear that he was beginning to get annoyed. 

Vilkas blinked his eyes at him incredulously. “Her  _ mother _ ?”

The old man nodded and then stood up, pacing towards the edge. “I thought my wife dead for over a decade. The Thalmor came and took her while Aeiron and I were out one day. She disappeared without a trace.” He turned to look back at the wolf, a solemn tone in his voice and a mournful gleam to his eyes. He turned to face the sun again. “That is, until a few years ago.” Philip walked back to Vilkas and fished something out of one of his pouches; a piece of paper in which he handed to the man. 

Vilkas began reading it, and right where he got to the end, his eyes widened. He turned to look back up at Phil. “She’s…”

“ _ Alive _ .” The Celt finished. “She’s being held at the Thalmor Embassy not too far away from here. And I wanted to back to Aeiron once I had her mother. I…” he hung his head. “I didn’t want to drag her into this bloody fight anymore. From both the vampires and those  _ blasted _ High Elves.” 

Vilkas handed Philip back the parchment and stood up, looking him square in the eye. “Whether or not you want it, Aeiron will always keep looking for you. If you want her to stop being so reckless,” he raised a hand to Philip’s shoulder. “You need to tell her what is going on.”

Philip sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.” His head jerked suddenly and he pushed Vilkas to the ground. He narrowed his eyes and looked through the woods. Several High Elves with gilded armor were marching through the woods a few hundred yards away; it was a different patrol than the one that had come earlier. “Shit,”he cursed. 

Vilkas peered through the woods and saw them heading in a very familiar direction. He suddenly frowned. “Where’s Aerion?”

“Back at the…” The words died from the old man’s mouth as he turned to look at Vilkas with startling realization. “Cabin!” He stumbled to get up and took off running. Vilkas reached out an arm towards him.

“Wait!”

The old man didn’t.

Vilkas ran after him, barely managing to keep up with him.

It was an eternity later when they reached the clearing where the house sat, saw the Thalmor throw Aeiron out onto the snow. One raised their sword to swing down at her.  _ “ATHAIR!” _

Her father dived right in, dragonbone war axe in hand as he deflected the Elven blade and sliced the Elf’s throat open in one swift motion. 

Vilkas swallowed and slowed down, unsheathing his greatsword. He tasted blood in the back of his throat; Aeiron’s small iron dagger was covered in it as she bounced up and stabbed one Thalmor agent in the side of their neck after narrowly avoiding a lethal swing of their sword. He didn’t think. He charged forward. 

Lightning bubbled in a mage’s hand. He cut off the arm with a violent swing, and then the mage was cut in half with his greatsword in the next instant. Vilkas turned in time to hear Aeiron scream “YOL TOOR SHUL!” and watch as fire erupted from her mouth and charred her enemies alive. 

“FUS!” it wasn’t Aeiron that shouted this time. 

Vilkas turned his head again, and saw the two Thalmor soldiers in front of Philip fly backwards. He almost didn’t dodge in time from an oncoming greatsword. The Companion countered the Elf effortlessly; there was a flaw in her stance and it was enough for him to swipe at her knees, bring her down upon them, and then slice through her abdomen. 

“Aerion!” Philip called and tossed her what looked like a Daedric dagger. Aeiron glanced his way and caught it effortlessly, now wielding that and the iron dagger in her other hand. She ducked to the right and fought off an onslaught of blows from the Elf she was currently facing. He swung at her horizontally from the left and she ducked and closed in. The Daedric blade punctured the gilded armor and went straight through the Elf’s ribcage. He screamed as she jerked the blade out and crossed the blades in front of his neck. Golden eyes stared up in horror at her glowing ones as she scissored the daggers and severed his head. 

She turned. Bodies lie scattered around her. She glimpsed at her father finishing off the last one he had to deal with; one axe stuck in the Elf’s chest while the other sliced through its neck. He panted and looked around. Aeiron’s eyes then traveled to Vilkas. Everywhere around them, the snow was stained scarlet. 

“We should leave. This place isn’t safe anymore,” Philip broke the silence. 

The Wolf eyed them critically, breath leaving him heavily. “Wait,” he spoke up. A finger rose to point at Philip. “ _ You _ can shout too?”

The old man smirked and dropped his head, still catching his breath. “I’d like to tell you all about it but as of right now, we’re all sitting ducks.”

Aeiron exhaled a small laugh and looked up at her father. “Where’re we going next?”

Vilkas narrowed his eyes but remained silent. 

“Windhelm?” the father suggested. Aeiron vehemently shook her head. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“What did you do?” he asked in a skeptical tone. 

She pursed her lips. “I-”

“She’s on vacation right now and doesn’t want to be caught up with Ulfric’s politics at the moment. And besides,” Vilkas crossed his arms. “If Ulfric catches wind of us, it’s only a matter of time before more bounty hunters or Thalmor show up.” He glanced at Aeiron, who was currently staring at him with wide eyes. 

Philip sighed. “Alright then. Where else?”

Aeiron smirked lightly. “Riften?”

Vilkas frowned. “That  _ thieves den _ of a town?”

Aeiron returned his look and placed her hands on her hips. “Believe it or not, the Thieves Guild is quite a safe place. Athair and I hid out there a few times when we needed the heat off of us.” she scrunched her face. “The place smells bad, though.” 

“The smell is the  _ least _ of the  _ many _ problems I have with Riften, I assure you Aeiron,” Vilkas gave her a pointed look.

Aeiron rolled her eyes and tossed her hands up in the air.

“ _ OR _ ,” Philip chimed in as he trotted down the stairs of the shack. They both looked at him as he tossed Aerion her things. “We could go to Sky Haven Temple.”

Aeiron nodded and Vilkas blinked his eyes in confusion. “That’s actually a good idea.”

“Where is that?” The Companion asked. 

“It’s where the Blades are located. It’s in the Reach.”

“I thought the Blades were-”

“Wiped out?” Philip spoke up again. Vilkas nodded.

“They were. By the Thalmor.  _ However _ ,” The old man toyed with the war axes in his hands, “A few of them survived and lied low for the last two or three decades. Delphine and Esbern are two of them that I know of.” 

“Are there more?” Vilkas asked. 

Aeiron shrugged as she strapped on her armor over her tunic. “Not that I know of in Skyrim.”

“Then it’s settled.” Philip sheathed his war axes and pulled up his hood. Aeiron finished sliding her gloves on and rolled her shoulders, shouldering her battleaxe and bow. Vilkas stiffened for a moment before running back into the shack. Philip’s eyes followed the younger man’s movement but otherwise didn’t comment. “We head for Sky Haven Temple.”

Vilkas jogged back out and up to Aeiron, Mountain Flower in hand. He tilted her head up and gingerly slid the flower behind her ear, tucking some of her hair back in the process. He smirked at Aeiron’s flushed face and pursed lips. He licked his and moved to lean in closer. Her eyes fluttered closed and she was more relaxed than she had been in the past. 

And then Philip coughed and walked past them, an annoyed smirk on the father’s face. “Whenever you two lovebirds are ready.” 

Aeiron’s eyes darted open and she hurried to catch up with her father, embarrassment written all over her face. Vilkas sighed and moved to follow the two, lightly chuckling to himself as he went. 

* * *

Aeiron’s father set a brutal pace, but nonetheless both he and Aeiron were able to keep up. Vilkas had less difficulty keeping close than he thought he would. If other people could travel this fast as them, things would go a lot smoother he couldn’t help but think. And also to his surprise, Forsworn bothered them, almost as if they sensed the old man’s presence and let them be. Vilkas did, however, sense their eyes on him, and on Aerion and Philip. The Reachmen kept their distance and it also seemed that the animals dare not challenge the man. 

They arrived at Sky Haven Temple two days later. 

  
  



	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER HAS SMUT IN IT. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

They settled in the opening area of the large cave on the abandoned bed rolls and pelts. The end of the second day was fast approaching as the light coming from the cave’s mouth dimmed. Philip offered to take first watch at the cave opening and the surrounding area.

“How long have these been here?” Vilkas found himself asking as he took in his surroundings. Aeiron shrugged, watching her father exit the cave. 

“They were here when I came here a few years ago originally with Esbern and Daphne. The Blades have long since cleared out of here, but they left behind a few good things,” Aeiron smiled lightly as she shrugged her battleaxe and bow and quiver, dropping the weapons onto the bedroll that she had picked. It was one of the ones with the least cobwebs on it. 

Vilkas frowned and watched her from where he sat on a nearby bedroll. He had already stripped himself of his armor, now wearing a plain tunic and pants. His body ached from wearing his Wolf armor for the last forty eight or so hours. He stretched, cracked his neck, shrugged his shoulders. Aeiron followed suit, slipping out of her armor and tossing to the side as well. 

“We’re not going to talk to them now?” he asked, watched as her body tensed. She turned to look at him, worrying her lower lip. 

“I don’t want to argue with them until I’ve had a proper night’s rest, if you don’t mind. I parted with them on... _ unpleasant _ terms.” She stretched out on the bedroll, sighing in comfort. Vilkas arched an eyebrow. 

“Such as?” He asked. She ignored him and trailed her eyes to the left, looking at the rampway that lead further back into the cave system. Aeiron heard footsteps heading her way but didn’t bother to look up until she saw a shadow looming over her in the dim light. 

“I’ll tell you in the morning. Right now I just want to-” She heard him move and turned her head to look back at him. Her breath hitched. He was lying on his side, elbow on the bedroll as he propped his head up, almost looming over her. She didn’t expect him to be so close to her. “...Sleep.”

The dim lighting made his silver eyes stand out more so than usual. Aeiron felt her face flush at how close he was. His hand rose to cup her face gently. “You smell different,” he said. Aeiron unconsciously clamped her legs shut. Her body began burning up and she didn’t know why. Her heavy breathing told him all he needed to know. “Aeiron-”

She flipped him over in the next instant, straddling his waist and pinning his arms down to his sides. Vilkas’ back met the ground roughly and it took a second for him to get his breath back, but once he did he grinned. “And here I thought that my advances were unwelcomed.” 

Her chest still heaved with every breath she took. The itch between her legs seemed to only worsen as the seconds ticked by. As if she was suddenly alarmed, Aerion let go of Vilkas’ arms and moved to stand up. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what-”

Vilkas’ hands immediately flew to her hips. “No you don’t,” he almost growled. Aeiron froze with a small gasp, trying not to move her hips as she gripped his tunic. He could smell her heartbeat, her arousal, knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her despite how much she tried to keep herself in check. He watched her as he kneaded the flesh of her hips and saw the way she toyed with her bottom lip between her teeth, saw her still trying to keep her composure. 

Her hips then flexed and squeezed her eyes shut with a moan. She set her hands on his wrists to try and push him away. Another flex of her hips followed and she choked out a small gasp. Vilkas dug his fingers into her hips. The wolf was howling for him to take her already, but he wouldn’t. 

Not yet. 

“ _ Aeiron _ ,” he growled. 

She opened her eyes to look at him. A new smell came into the air, and he recognized it when he saw her eyes water. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Aeiron tried to get off of him again but he wouldn’t let her go. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You have needs to, Aeiron,” Vilkas sighed. He raised one hand to cup her cheek. 

“But I haven’t-” she cut herself off. 

“I know,” he said. Aeiron opened her eyes wide and looked at him. Vilkas licked his lips anxiously and sighed. “It’s alright. But there’s no need for you to feel ashamed of it.”

Aeiron let out a long breath and nodded, bowing her head to look down at his chest. “Alright,” she mumbled. Vilkas leaned back onto the bedroll and gave her a small smile. She looked up at him and swallowed down a breath, tried to calm her nerves. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t-” Aeiron cut him off with an experimental roll of her hips. His grip on her tightened and he hissed. “ _ Woman _ .” 

She let out a breathless laugh and scooted back, now sitting on his clothed crotch. Aeiron bit her lip, looking up at him again and gripping his wrists again. His eyes stared back at her with anticipation and she took that as her cue to continue. Her hands trailed up his chest slowly over the fabric, and then back down to the waistband of his pants. The second time she slid her fingers under his tunic. 

Vilkas’ breathing became heavier as her fingers skimmed across his skin, feeling the small and large scars alike and taking in the heat of his skin. Aeiron felt herself burning up just touching him. A roll from her hips had him clamping his eyes shut throwing his head back. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. 

His hips bucked upwards when he felt her lips on his neck, grazing gently across the skin and teeth tugging at it lightly. Vilkas exhaled loudly and his eyes flew open when he felt her bite him and then run her tongue over it. 

That did him in. 

The wolf rolled her over and pinned her arms above her head with one hand, the other burying itself in her hair. Aeiron gave him a startled look and licked her lips. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked quietly. He could hear her heart hammering away in her chest. The warmth between her legs was beginning to intoxicate him and put him in a haze with her eyes the only real thing he could focus on. 

He pushed her head up roughly to meet his mouth, kissing her roughly as if he were a starving man. She returned it in kind, arching her hips to meet his with moaning and panting in between kisses. Vilkas began kissing down her neck and stopped when he heard her getting louder. He looked back up at her she her eyes were starting to water again. “Why did you stop?” she whined.

He gave her a predatory grin and slowly lowered his mouth to her neck again. She moaned like she did before:  _ very _ loud and turning him on  _ very _ much with every wriggle of her body she gave and with every lovely sound that passed through her lips. She rubbed up against him and pulled him closer with her legs, grinding herself into him for some kind of relief.

Aeiron threw her head back as he bit and suckled at her neck. “Vilkas,” she moaned after one particularly hard bite. The hand in her hair disentangled itself and trailed down her body, stopping at the waistline of her underwear. She gasped and watched as he rose his head to look at her. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he spoke slowly, making sure she understood every word he was saying. Her breath was coming in and out in ragged noises, feeling like it was barely enough. Aeiron nodded her head and laid back. “How far do you plan on going?”

“As far as you want,” he said without hesitation. Aeiron blinked her eyes. 

“What about you?” she asked. She felt his erection pressing against her twitch in its confines. He was in need as much as she was it seemed. Vilkas shook his head with a smirk.

“Woman, you’ve been giving me trouble for a while now. I’ll survive,” he smiled when she laughed at that, knowing exactly what he meant. He leaned in and kissed her soundly. “This has been going on for a few days and it’s taken its toll on you. I can tell.” she tried to argue back but he gave her a knowing look. “I’m lycan,  _ remember _ ?”

Aeiron rolled her eyes and nodded. “Tonight is about you,” he continued. He began his descent back to her neck. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

As soon as he let go of her arms, Aerion’s hands flew the hem of his tunic and pulled it off of him. Vilkas barely had enough time to pull away enough to slide his arms out of it before she took it off of him and threw it into some forgotten corner of the space they were in. In return, he yanked her tunic off of her and chucked it in the same direction.

Vilkas smirked at her before lowering himself back on top of her. Her laughter was music to his ears as she pulled him in for another kiss and ran her hands down his back. He kissed down to her neck again and moved her underwear aside, grazing her with lithe touches. Aeiron gasped sharply and gripped his arm. He looked up at her and touched her again. She moaned loudly and threw her head back. “ _ Vilkas _ .”

He smirked into her neck and gave her a small peck there before leaning into her ear. “You’re so  _ wet _ , Aeiron.”

His hot breath on her ear made her shiver in delight. Aeiron moaned in response and bucked into his hand. Her fingernails dug into the skin on his neck and arm, and he honestly couldn’t get enough of it, or of her scent that clouded his mind. Vilkas trailed his mouth down to her breasts, biting and sucking her skin as he went. She sighed beneath him and then froze. Vilkas felt her tense underneath him and looked up, clearly confused. “...What is it?”

Aeiron’s face flushed a deeper scarlet than it already had been and she turned her head away. “My scars-”

Vilkas sighed. “I’ve seen them all already. If I was that grossed out by them I wouldn’t be doing this,” he stated in a tone that left no room for argument. 

His finger skimmed by her clit and she threw her head back with a muted scream, arching her hips off of the ground and whimpering loudly. Vilkas continued to suck on her neck as his fingers toyed with the bundle of nerves. His body was barely able to keep her pinned to the bedroll beneath them. “You’ve never touched yourself, have you?” he asked in a low voice. Aeiron tossed her head to the side after shaking it and dragged her nails down his back, wrapping her arms around him. 

Vilkas’ chuckle made a chill run up her spine and the place between her legs grow warmer. “It’s about time you learned about yourself, woman,” he sighed.His thumb was now rubbing her clit in circles and he had her crying out loudly. He took a nipple into his mouth and pulled it between his teeth before sucking harshly on it. 

_ “Vilkas!” _

She almost leapt off of the bedroll when he slipped a finger in her. Aeiron whimpered and clung onto him for dear life, a cry or a moan leaving her with every breath she took. And then one finger became two and she almost lost her mind. 

_ “VILKAS!” _

He had to taste her. Her scent in the air was driving him mad. It was heavy and so full of need. And she was well on her way to release. 

Aeiron looked up when she felt him slide down her body and pull his fingers out. She whined and arched her hips off the ground. Vilkas grinned and brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean. She tasted fucking amazing, and that look she gave him as he did so made him want more. 

Aeiron’s eyes fell closed as she tried to regain her breath and keep it from leaving her lungs. Her skin was on fire and burned to the touch. The ache in between her legs reached an all time high compared to the last few days. The tension in her core seemed to consume her. Vilkas had her entirely at his mercy. 

A scream tore from her throat when she felt something wet and warm glide across her cunt’s opening. Vilkas’ fingers dug into her thighs harshly and she felt his stubble scratch at her skin. “Fuck!  _ Vilkas _ !” Her hands immediately went for his hair as he gave her another lick with his tongue. Aeiron arched her hips to meet his mouth and her hands tried pushing his face against her. 

Her cries grew louder the longer he pushed on and her body writhed and tossed back and forth. He knew she was close as she choked on the moans and gasps that he pulled from her. Vilkas greedily sucked on her clit and probed her again with his fingers. “Let me feel it, Aeiron. Don’t hold back.” 

Aeiron pursed her lips and tried fighting the tension that was building in her core. She could barely breathe right and Vilkas was making her feel way too good for her own well being it felt like. She rutted against his face the higher and higher her pleasure grew while shamelessly moaning and yelling expletives. His fingers found a spot in her and curled upwards. 

Her orgasm shattered her into a million pieces and a scream loud enough to reach the Greybeards tore itself from her throat. Tears fell from her eyes as they rolled back and she slumped onto the bedroll below. Vilkas pleasured her through its entirety and made sure to draw every moan and whimper he could before finally unhooking her legs from his shoulders. He licked his lips as he sat up, breathing heavily and wiping his mouth with the backside of his hand. 

Aeiron kept her eyes locked on him as she came down from her high. Her body was covered in sweat and bite marks and hickeys that Vilkas couldn’t help but grin at. The way her eyes shined and her hair haloed her face made him think he was the luckiest man alive. 

He kissed up her body and neck until he got to her lips. She kissed him back gently, tiredly, trying not to fall asleep. 

He cupped her face again. “It’s alright. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Vilkas spoke with a small smile. Aeiron frowned. He shook his head and put her underwear back in place. “I said no. Tonight was for you. Now  _ sleep _ .” He shuffled away and fumbled about looking for their tunics. Aeiron didn’t know how much time had passed when he came back. Her mind was a haze and she could barely stay awake. Vilkas gingerly moved her and helped her back into her tunic and pulled the bedroll over the both of them. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. He fell asleep shortly after

* * *

Aeiron and Philip were gone when Vilkas woke up. The sun wasn’t too high, and the spot next to him was still lukewarm. It wasn’t that long ago that they left for the temple. Vilkas scrambled to put his armor on and to strap on his greatsword before making a dash for where they went. 

They didn’t notice him when he entered Sky Haven. An older woman was yelling at Aeiron, barking at her almost. “...we told you to kill Paarthurnax and you haven’t yet, so the Blades will not help you until you do so.” Vilkas cautiously walked closer towards the argument. 

“You’re asking me to kill the leader of the Greybeards who has long since stopped killing-”

“Those old fools don’t know what they’re protecting! Paarthurnax took many innocent lives years ago and must be  _ punished _ !”

“ENOUGH!” Philip’s voice echoed off of the walls and the temple shook, dust and small debris falling from the ceiling above. “You swore your service to the Dragonborn. We’re the Dragonborn. Any personal grudges are not supposed to get in the way of your vow,” he shot Daphne a glare and rolled his bottom lip over his teeth. She shuddered and quickly looked away.

“There’s  _ two _ of you?” Esbern asked incredulously. “Alduin’s wall only mentioned  _ one _ Dragonborn.  _ Not _ two. How many more of you are there?”

“Not sure,” the older Celt shrugged. “My father was and that’s all I know.” He shook his head. “Look, we’re wasting time here. We have  _ both _ The Thalmor and Harkon’s vampires to worry about. If it’s more members of the Blades you’re looking for, that’s fine. We can recruit people. But Aeiron made her decision and it’s about  _ damn _ time you start respecting it!” 

Daphne was about to speak up again when Vilkas interrupted. “What’s going on here?”

Aeiron turned around, clearly shocked. “Vilkas…” 

Philip looked away from the wolf and back to the two Blades. “Politics, apparently,” he answered exasperatedly. Daphne’s face flushed and her mouth gaped before she turned on her heel and stormed away. 

“Daphne, wait!” Esbern followed after her. 

“So,” Vilkas raised an eyebrow and tilted his head down to the side to look at Aeiron. “Who’s Paarthurnax?”

Aeiron sighed. “A dragon,” she answered hesitantly. Vilkas blinked his eyes and narrowed them at her. 

“A dragon?” he repeated. 

“Mhmm.” Philip turned his attention back towards Aeron and Vilkas. “Aeiron refuses to kill him. She believes he’s not a threat, but Daphne and Esbern won’t listen.” 

“So what do we do?” Vilkas asked. 

Philip scoffed and rolled his shoulders. “We’ll start looking for people to recruit for the Blades. In the meantime, we’ll head back for Whiterun.” 

Vilkas gave the man a startled look. “Vignar’s bounty-”

“I know, Vilkas. That needs to be straightened out as soon as possible. We leave now.”

But Aeiron and Vilkas gave Philip a startled look as he marched for the temple’s exit. They both rushed to follow him after he was a good few paces ahead of them. 

 

* * *

Two and a half days later they arrived at Whiterun at dusk. The looks on the guards’ faces as they passed through the city gates was priceless with their slack jaws and their bulging eyes. The chatter and whispers seemed to grow louder the closer they grew to Dragonsreach, and by the time they reached the Jarl, Vignar was sitting in alarm, drumming his fingers on the throne’s arm nervously. “Aeiron! Vilkas! Welcome back! And... _ Philip _ ?!”

“Nice to see you, too,” he gave a bland smile and raised his eyebrows. “Now, mind telling me why there was a 1000 gold bounty on my daughter’s head?” He gave Vignar the same look as he had given to Delphine, and the Jarl was already shrinking back in his chair. 

“Aeiron is a valuable asset to the Stormcloaks and-”

“Is not your slave to come at your every beck and call. The Civil War ended. Tell Ulfric to let other people handle the tedious manners and give Aeiron a break,” Philip spat out. The guards lowered their hands to the hilts of their swords. The tension continued to grow in the air. 

“Talk to the Jarl with more respect or you’ll be getting my blade in your face, old man!” one guard shouted. Philip scoffed and raised a daring eyebrow. “That’ll be the day. If it weren’t for me,” he paused and gestured a hand towards the throne. “Your  _ Jarl _ wouldn’t be alive right now.” His open hand turned into a pointed finger in which he accusingly pointed at the Jarl. “I’m warning you right now, Vignar. If you, or Ulfric, or  _ anyone _ make my daughter have another mental breakdown. I’ll have your scalps hanging from the Whiterun banners!” The growl that left the old Celt’s throat was most certainly  _ not _ human. 

Philip turned on his heel, wrapped an arm around his daughter, and marched for the door. “Come on, Aeiron! Let’s go to Jorrvaskr! I could use a drink or ten. You can show me this adopted daughter of yours, and I can finally meet your Housecarl! So how’s the weather been lately? Whiterun has always been...” The castle was silent after the trio left and then some long seconds afterwards. Vilkas found himself grimacing when recalling the sheer  _ terror _ in Vignar’s eyes. If Philip Leon-Croi could scare some of the most notable people in Skyrim with a  _ look _ , Divines have mercy if  _ he _ pisses Aeiron’s father off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got some feedback saying that they wanted Aeiron to initiate the romance or that they wanted more Aeiron and Vilkas, so I decided to do BOTH. With an extremely steamy bit, lawd forgive me if it sucks, but I did my best uwu
> 
> Feedback is EXTREMELY WELCOME!


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